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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26473855">The Hellsing Maid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimimosa/pseuds/Mimimosa'>Mimimosa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hellsing, Hellsing Ultimate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aging, Child Loss, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Growing Old, Growing Old Together, Hope, Human-focused, Humanity, Implied Sexual Content, Inconclusive romance, Introspection, Loneliness, Loss of Innocence, Mortality, Old Age, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Platonic Relationships, Regret, Romantic Friendship, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Starting Over, Vampire Hunters, Widowed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:27:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26473855</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimimosa/pseuds/Mimimosa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Independent short stories about a childless and widowed Hellsing maid. Worn and disillusioned by time and the brashness of her youth, she waits for everlasting peace, whatever that means anymore. Centred around an elderly original character and interactions with canon. The story focuses on mortality and humanity in the lens of loss and aging. Most chapters are independent but follow an overarching theme and style. Includes various timelines and characters. Short stories and drabbles. This is a re-post. Originally written in 2014.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Walter Dornez/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Maid: An Introduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a re-post from my fanfiction.net account. The story was originally written in 2014 until I went into a 5 year hiatus starting in 2015. I plan to finally complete it by end of 2020. Given the quarantine, I suppose I now have the time and ability.</p><p>Chapters will be posted every 1 - 2 weeks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You poor dear, you must be exhausted."</p>
<p>Seras quickly spun around, alarmed to see an elderly woman standing at the door. Only an hour ago had she woken, and now in 3 hours' time, she was already to be heading to her first mission with Alucard. It all seemed too fast for Seras, but she followed orders regardless.</p>
<p>The woman smiled kindly at her, approaching her with casual dignity. She was a tall woman with stiff posture and thin features. Her expression was one of polite indifference, although tinged with improper maternal concern. It was a strange mixture of intimidating and welcoming, and seeing the old feminine figure, it brought a sense of confusing comfort to Seras. "Hello," she said, unsure if she was being too informal. The woman seemed so upright.</p>
<p>"Seras Victoria, correct?" she asked.</p>
<p>Seras nodded, her face quickly flushing upon the realisation she was only half dressed. "Yes, ma'am."</p>
<p>The maid chuckled as Seras shifted uncomfortably, seeing as she was only in her underwear. "Nothing you have that I don't know about, dear. Now, where are my manners? My name is Anne Douglas, steward of the Hellsing Mansion and retired vampire hunter. I'm here to assist you with your uniform."</p>
<p>"Don't worry about it. I can put it on just fine."</p>
<p>"Oh, I hope so. No, love, I'm simply here to check for any necessary alterations. Your bust size was quite unique therefore it wouldn't surprise me if the tailor cocked up."</p>
<p>Seras looked down at the uniform, nodding gently. As Seras dressed, the woman busied herself with small chores, making the bed, clearing the night table, and fetching measuring tape. Upon seeing Seras fully dressed, Anne scowled. "Unacceptable," she muttered, measuring the length of the skirt. It barely covered the Draculina's bottom, her chest area was far too tight, and whoever thought wearing stockings was an excellent idea was probably the same person who would make clothing decisions for the inhabitants of Hell. "You look like a harlot. Vampire or not, no proper Englishwoman should be disgraced like this. I'll get started on making that blasted piece of cloth longer. If he hadn't been dead for 10 years, God rest his soul, I would've thought Sir Arthur was behind this. Who knows now? Walter's never struck me as the odd pervert, Integra has more integrity than this, and Alucard wouldn't care less."</p>
<p>"Master?"</p>
<p>"Yes. That master of yours is an interesting character. If you're wise, you might disdain him as much as I do."</p>
<p>Seras smiled politely. She didn't know anything about Alucard, only that he shot her through the chest and turned her into a vampire. Nothing seemed to shock Seras anymore. For a moment, she wondered how a normal human would react to all of this. She let out a small breath before glancing back at the steward, who bowed respectfully. As Anne turned to leave, Seras held out her arm before quickly catching herself and pulling back once more. "Wait!"</p>
<p>Anne paused. "Is there anything you require, Miss Victoria?"</p>
<p>Seras looked down in self-doubt. "I was just hoping you'd stay and we could talk."</p>
<p>"Talk?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. Just talk. I used to talk to my coworkers back at the police station all the time. Eddie was always kind to me. I don't know…I just feel like everything's going too fast and I'd like to make it slower again."</p>
<p>Anne smiled kindly. "Of course." What a sweet girl. It elicited a deep sympathy from Anne, to see Seras already beginning to struggle so much with the loss of her humanity. Anne dismissed the thought. No, her humanity remained. Time had not thrust her into the depths of desperation Alucard experienced, had not stripped her of all sanity and empathy as she stared at endless hands moving in a circle mocking her immortality. For now, the girl was fine.</p>
<p>Seras giggled, sitting down on the bed. "It's so nice to talk to a girl. I was the only woman at the station."</p>
<p>Anne sat across from her, crossing her ankles and resting herself slightly to the left. "It is nice, isn't it? I used to have secret little conversations with Integra all the time when she was just a girl. Those little blue eyes of hers. They sparkled and shined with infatuation when she spoke about some singer or actor from a programme. It was absolutely endearing. I didn't tell you that, however." Anne winked. "So, go on. What do you want to talk about? Boys? Weather? Weapons?"</p>
<p>"Well, I was thinking more along the lines of things like family or interests."</p>
<p>"Ah, yes. Do tell me about your family. Walter should be working on how to handle them right now."</p>
<p>Seras smiled sorrowfully. "He'll have an easy time. They're gone. But…what about yours?"</p>
<p>It was a while before Anne spoke, unsure if her condolence amounted to anything. "I'm terribly sorry about your loss," she began. The child began to make sense to her at that moment. An orphan girl turned into a vampire. It was almost cliché. "I have two brothers and a sister. They all have their families, we meet once a year, and as for me…" Anne sighed and removed the ring on her left hand. She placed it carefully on Seras' palm, her eyes dull and heavy. "That's all I have."</p>
<p>"…You were married?"</p>
<p>"Yes. A long time ago."</p>
<p>"What happened?"</p>
<p>She smiled forlornly. "He passed, of course. May he rest well."</p>
<p>"I'm so sorry."</p>
<p>She waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing to be sorry for, dove. The jealous virgin has him now."</p>
<p>That struck Seras as oddly blasphemous although she hardly counted herself as the religious sort. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?”</p>
<p>"Hm, no. I don't mind. It was 39 years ago…"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Origin of a Maid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Story of Anne Douglas as told by Anne Douglas.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is basically an info dump on Anne's character as told by Anne. I usually like it with bits and pieces of information regarding background are spread around, but seeing as these are independent short stories, I thought that would be too much for a reader to keep track and timeline. So here's Anne's story, told by Anne. I had initially planned to wait 1 week before posting this chapter, but decided it's a vital chapter for the reader.</p><p>I didn't initially plan for Seras and Anne to have a bond, but then I liked the idea of it. Integra will come up later, along with the Wild Geese. Now Alucard is difficult because she actively tries to reduce her time around him. It's not hate as much as it is a combination of threat and resentment. Eh.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I barely remember what happened. I was thrown against something, maybe I fell. I can't remember. What I do remember is Ralph walking towards me, his eyes bright red, his teeth replaced with fangs, his once supple face rotten and decomposing. The man I loved so much, who once stood so tall…there he was, nothing left except tattered clothes and gaping sockets of flesh. A monster. A monster that had the intention to rip me apart and consume me. A monster who threw me against the ground and crushed my swollen belly. The same monster, who minutes before then, had been the man to give me his name and put a child in me. I was ready to die at that point. I wasn't at all like you. I gave up."</p><p>Anne poured a small bit of blood into Seras' cup. The young vampire was reluctant, but Anne continued to push the cup towards her. "For your strength, darling," Anne insisted. Seras looked away, not ready yet to accept her nature as such an unholy creature.</p><p>"What happened then?" Seras asked, still eager to hear what had happened to Anne. "How did you survive?"</p><p>Anne held her chest, setting down the kettle beside Seras. "Ralph was cut to pieces. They all were. The ghouls that marched towards me were split in halves or fours. More sprang up around me, and the next thing I knew, they just fell. All of them. Just fell and died, this time really died. I remember how Ralph's blood splattered all over me, I can still feel it running down my cheek. His rotten corpse crumbled at my feet. I'll never forget the sight of looking down and seeing my fingers stained with his blood, the shine of the diamond he had given me darkened by the warm liquid. I wanted to be horrified, but my mind would not let me comprehend what had happened. It was too much to bear. My senses were already lost, so I assume my instinct was to crawl over to my deceased husband's pieces and mourn him. I sat there, surrounded by what was left, bleeding myself from my crushed belly. I was in such a state of shock, I didn't question what he was, I didn't think about how those who weren't cut apart fell and died."</p><p>"Was it master that killed them?"</p><p>She chuckled. "No, an Angel of Death did, with his dark wings and a wicked smirk. The demon dog had been locked in its cage at that point, the leash around his neck shortened after the war."</p><p>"Angel of Death? Walter?"</p><p>"Yes. You can't see it now, but Walter was a fearsome killer in his youth. He's still lethal by all accounts, of course, but my how he could tear through thousands of ghouls with a mere flick of his wrist. It excited the heart of any vulnerable woman. When I first saw him, Walter was terror itself. He didn't show me any sort of mercy, no comfort whatsoever. No, he berated me for crying over rotten skin and sinews."</p><p>"Walter did that? I can't imagine he'd be so cruel."</p><p>"It was a different time. Years change us all, whether or not we see it physically."</p><p>Seras nodded. "So how did you join Hellsing?"</p><p>"Ah, yes. He tore me away from my Ralph. Walter, I mean. I was brought to a tent set up outside of Leeds, and there I met Sir Arthur Hellsing, Integra's father. He ordered for me to be medically examined and Walter to report on the conditions of the affected area. A man of many faults, nevertheless Sir Hellsing was always stern in a proper respect. I had no idea how much pain my body was in until I was set down on that cot. Goodness, that bloody cot. I was examined, those workers staring at me with wide, terrible eyes. I held my stomach the entire time. I couldn't bear to look at it. A part of me sort of expected Ralph to come into that tent and tell me it was all a nightmare. I had a vivid dream is all. I clung dearly to the baby he gave me. I didn't look. I couldn't look. That's when they told me. I already knew, but I didn't want to believe, I wanted to keep holding on. I kept whispering to myself...if I was alive, so was my baby boy. I was 27 weeks pregnant with a beautiful boy, and right there, it was confirmed he died. Killed by his own father and failed by his mother. Now it was his blood that I was surrounded by, my boy's. Our son."</p><p>Seras stared at the blood now. Just like that, everything was gone in one night. God must've humored himself with these tragedies, as he had such a fondness for making them occur so often. "I'm sorry."</p><p>Anne took a deep, heavy breath and sat down in front of Seras. For a moment, her face twisted in misery before collecting herself once more. "The infant that never was, my poor baby whose life was stripped so early he didn't even get to breath air. That child in my womb was all I had left of my love, and he slipped from me. Because I was so along in my pregnancy, they told me I had to birth him. And I did. I spent hours in an induced labour, pushing his corpse out of my body. I had rather that than let him be torn to pieces. I wanted something whole, I wanted to hold him whole. I never did get to, they took him from me. Didn't want let me see. But I did." Anne extended her arm towards Seras, cupping her hands. Worn eyes stared deep into her, the woman's fingers trembling slightly. "He could've fit in my hands, small like this. I saw him...he was so red and bloody, his little neck snapped by the umbilical cord. He even looked disjointed.</p><p>The heartbreak I experienced at that moment…the pain was unimaginable. I screamed so loud I swore Ralph could hear me wherever he was. It took five nurses to stop my wailing. I kept begging them to save my son, and all they could do was try to hide him from me, even after they realised I had seen him. As Sir Hellsing explained to me that it had been monsters called vampires that attacked my husband and I, a vicious rage consumed me. All I could think about was vengeance. I believed him. I saw those creatures myself, and I felt an urge to kill them all. I was in so much anguish. I was 26 years old then, blinded by absolute hatred of vampires and an inconsolable agony. Everything I loved, all gone in a matter of minutes, all ripped from me. I swore to myself I would not rest until I had killed every vampire that walked the earth. Not until I sent the last one to the depths of Hell would the debt be paid. And so, I asked Arthur Hellsing for nothing more than to give me all the opportunities he could to kill these things that took everything from me."</p><p>"He let you?"</p><p>Anne smirked. "I'm here, aren't I?"</p><p>"But, how did you convince him?"</p><p>"Who knows? With a rifle and a pretty face, I guess. Perhaps he was impressed by my new resolve to live. Maybe he wanted to fill the space between my legs my husband had left. I never understood what convinced him. That man was brilliant as much as he was vain. Walter wasn't too happy about it at first. Saw me as nothing more than a nuisance. Then, when I met Alucard…that's when I discovered what fear was. I recall thinking how the real reason Alucard could not die was because of how terrified death must've been of him. Every time I heard his arrogant and sinister cackle, I thought I had been thrusted into hell with the rest of the countless souls he's consumed."</p><p>"Master isn't so terrifying."</p><p>"You're his fledgling. Of course he doesn't seem so to you, and I'm much bigger coward honestly. Once I was employed by Hellsing, Walter trained me. Taught me all he could on demonology, how to fight them, dodge bullets, mutilate bodies, dispose of corpses in an efficient manner, aim a gun in less than a second and shoot faster. My privileged days were over, and that man made sure I was turned into a true hunter. I've always owed him a great deal, despite his claims that it was all for his benefit. Do you want to hear the ending now?"</p><p>Seras nodded. "Yes."</p><p>"It all amounted to nothing. Year after year, I killed and killed more vampires and ghouls than I ever cared to count. I took my orders, hunted my prey, and waited for more. I realised there wasn't more. There was no justice, there was no satisfaction, there was no sense of consolation. My hands were drenched in blood, my body aging and withering, and there was nothing but an empty feeling within me that I knew I could never fill with a life of violence. A gaping hole was left that night, and all those years of hunting never filled it. Meanwhile, I saw my brothers and sisters marry, have children, their children have children, and live their lives peacefully. I held their babies, I saw them grow. I looked on from the outside as my nephew graduated, and my niece won a sport event. I could not beam with pride the way my brothers did. It was something I would never have, and it was all my own fault. I'll be right here, alone and forgotten by them all. A proper penance for my sins.</p><p>I had let my rage consume my life. I wondered what would've happened if I had simply mourned Ralph instead of fighting for naught, if maybe I had allowed myself to even find someone new, maybe remarry and have my children. Live out life as I had hoped in my girlhood. Only too late did I realise that allowing myself to feel joy again, or try, wouldn't insult my dead. If only I had just given myself time rather than jump into shallow water. I survived that night, and all I did with my second chance to live was toss it away. I've been grieving for so long with no respite, and my own decisions were to blame. I never allowed my late husband to rest in peace or myself carry on. My rage wasn't going to bring Ralph back. No amount of vampires I killed was going to correct what had happened. Nothing was all I received from vengeance. My hate fueled nothing but my own misery. Now here I am, one decision I made as a broken youth, and an entire lifetime worth of chances wasted away. All that's left now is for someone to dispose of the trash. I can think about it all I want, but what can I do? Wait. Wait until the day it's finally over. That's all anyone could do. Think about what could've been while enduring what is. There is no God in Heaven or Devil in Hell that can turn back the march of time, so we carry on and wait, remembering bitter memories and dreaming of lost opportunities."</p><p>Anne chuckled, shaking her head slowly. "Funny, isn't it? I did what I felt was right and all I receive is regret. You always see clearly as long as you're looking back." She took a deep breath, smiling dejectedly towards the Draculina, greying and withered skin gently on top of hers. "Alucard has offered me a few times to put an end to my misery. That cocky grin of his mocks me every time he does. Loves to play with emotions, see how far he can push human frailty. No, I'd never let myself die at the hands of a vampire. My empty life will not end with such an insult."</p><p>Seras noticed Anne's hand had been on her wrist for a while, a small pleading look in her eyes. It brought such a deep sense of shame to Seras, who chose the life of a vampire. She was the creature Anne despised so much she threw her life away to destroy them. "Do you hate me, then?"</p><p>"Don't be absurd." That shocked Seras, who looked at her in surprise. "I'm 65 years old now. My anger is gone. It disappeared the moment I finally let Ralph rest in peace. Hatred is a demanding master, and I'm too old to service it any longer. Vampires are nothing to be hated, they're to be pitied if anything. No, Seras, I don't hate you. Look at the expanse of the sky and all it covers, and that is how much you matter to me. I can only dream of daughters as brave and beautiful as you." Anne stood up, picking up the kettle once more and filling Seras' cup with blood. She pushed it towards her even more, smiling gently as she did. "Now, go on, drink and pick up your strength."</p><p>With that, Anne left, leaving Seras to her thoughts. The night fell heavy around her, and the silence became unbearably loud. Taking the cup of blood with her, Seras looked up at the star speckled sky and all it covered. The seas that it covered, the mountains it covered, the deserts, and glaciers it enveloped. Seras smiled. She remembered a little bit. She used to extend her arms wide and say, "I love you this much." Under the cover of the sky, Seras took a sip.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. God's Mercy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Oh, what a pleasant surprise. And to what do I owe this pleasure?"</p>
<p>The vast and damp dungeon had always been an uncomfortable place to visit. Its dreariness became a burden to those who were accustomed to the clarity of day, and the humidity was overwhelmingly uncomfortable to stand in. The scatter of insects could be heard sometimes, with the occasional pitter patter of some unknown creature. No living thing lasted long, not if it was so bold as to irritate the Nosferatu who sat on his secluded throne.</p>
<p>The elderly maid chuckled, closing her eyes for a moment before facing the intimidating being. "It's always so flattering how you play the fool for me, as if you weren't expecting my visit. I'm only here in regards of the recent attack on Hellsing."</p>
<p>"Very well, go on."</p>
<p>"Moments before he died, one of the brothers muttered a rather peculiar word: Millennium. Walter is currently investigating the message for any relevant information, but I was wondering if you knew any significance to it."</p>
<p>Millennium? Alucard tilted the wine glass in his hand, watching the liquid inside swish and adhere to the surface of the object. Yes, that word did strike him as incredibly familiar. It was like a fond memory to him, the sheer madness and excitement that the word brought back from the past. But, his speculation couldn't have been right. The memory ended in thorough destruction with not a single body left whole. "Fascinating. Did he say anything else?"</p>
<p>"Unfortunately, no. He burnt up before he could speak any further, and at the time, Integra had more pressing matters. The loss of our men was absolutely devastating and insulting to us all. May God have mercy on them."</p>
<p>Alucard scoffed, the wine in the glass stilling as he set it down beside him. "God's mercy. What an absurd notion."</p>
<p>"Does the phrase vex you?"</p>
<p>"I suppose not. No, the truly irritating part is the pervasive lie of God's supposed mercy. Please, it's enough to make me laugh."</p>
<p>Anne chuckled. "It is said that it was by his mercy that even the fallen angel was spared from oblivion."</p>
<p>"Then was it by his mercy that the devil was allowed to run rampant and engulf the earth in its entirety? Such a merciful, knowledgeable God, and yet he allowed to live the very evil that would plague humanity. His mercy would only breed suffering, and what mercy is left for those he created on a whim? It strikes me as rather odd that such a powerful and all-knowing being couldn't have known of a treacherous snake in his garden, or had the ability to will his subjects' loyalty. Such a grandiose God, and yet not even his omnipotence could stop one from forming doubts of his greatness."</p>
<p>Anne narrowed her eyes towards the ground, her smile broadening. "Wise men have called him kind and forgiving, vampire Alucard."</p>
<p>"Wisdom…how moot that word has become. They've all been fooled by the same tactic. A being that throws his creation into fire only to flick some water and demand they call him merciful. Humans are nothing more than a gaping wound left to fester, fighting each other for trivialities, wealth, and the smallest morsels of food while God sits on his throne and demands we gawk at his benevolence. God's mercy is nothing more than a mad king's desperate attempt to keep hold of his falling kingdom."</p>
<p>"Yes, I guess you're right. But every god has his bloodlust. Feeding him praise fills common man with a sense of security, no matter how false you may see it. It is simple human desire to follow the ravings of a madman rather than be left with the fear of independence." Anne finally found it within herself to face Alucard, her expression one of amusement and cynicism. "The poor have their gods, the rich their wealth, and the rest are left with nothing but questions. Hasn't it always been so?"</p>
<p>Alucard laughed, feeling a small spark in his belly with the elderly woman's words. "Do I see a quiver of doubt in your faith? I hope I haven't shot you, my dear."</p>
<p>"Nonsense. My faith is adamant. The weak heart of a woman needs the promise of a God and whatever mercy he can offer. I'll take the droplets on my cheek rather than be completely forsaken in fire."</p>
<p>Alucard's sinister laughter rose as he clapped slowly at Anne's performance. "Weak heart, you say? And here you are accusing me of acting the fool."</p>
<p>"I rather have the bliss of a fool than the burden of a sage. I believe my age has permitted me that privilege."</p>
<p>Alucard closed his eyes in thought and reclined against his seat. Slowly, he opened them again in delight. "Age permits nothing. No, it is silent dignity that gives you your beauty, and prosperity that allows you respite from your reason."</p>
<p>Anne lowly chuckled, turning away from him. "Your flattery is too kind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to end my formalities here. Have a pleasant evening, vampire." The last thing she needed was his teasing, some warped form of intrigue he had a fondness of using with silver foxes.</p>
<p>Alucard picked up his wine glass once more upon hearing her shut the door to the basement. He stared at the red liquid, fascinated by the stillness of the surface. It remained so still, and yet, an astute observer could see the currents inside the glass, the movement of particles bustling about towards the surface. What fun he had with the lovely steward. If only she did visit him more often.</p>
<p>Anne looked back as she heard a loud cackle coming from the hall. She let out a small breath, glancing at a portrait beside her. "And Time, Alucard, will allow me relief from your backhanded mockery."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Stone Slab</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Something short I wrote while trying to work out the next two stories. I did a big ole infodump on the second chapter (sorry about that) so I decided to introduce little issues subtly now. Next I do plan to have her interact with Integra and then with Arthur and Walter, but this time, back in the 1960s when Anne was a young woman and Arthur was alive and well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She sat on a park bench, staring out into the great big emptiness of the grass and its occasional play structure. Her eyes drifted to the bumbling steps of the young children racing each other and fighting over some decrepit old toy. Their giggles and yells surrounded her, and with every sound of laughter radiating from the children's lips, her heart sank. Her stomach began to pain her, and her arms felt heavy.</p><p>She stood from her spot, calmly walking past the small park and smiling towards the stumbling little ones who fell against her leg. The toddlers didn't have a sense of fear towards her. It was an old woman, like their grandmother who gave them biscuits and candy. To their surprise, she offered them nothing except sweet words of comfort and guidance to their mothers. Where was their chocolate chip biscuit? Anne was not their grandmother. She'd never be their grandmother.</p><p>She rode quietly in her car, the emptiness of the vehicle burdening her body, and the jabbering of the radio bringing her little solace. Every so often, she would hear the rattle of plastic keys, and the gentle cooing of an infant. A wisp of blonde hair would appear beside her, and small hazel eyes blinked in confusion. Stopped at a red light, Anne let out a small breath as a mother hurried her boy along. It had been 39 years. There was nothing beside her. There was no wisp of blonde hair, no small hazel eyes, no rattling of plastic keys.</p><p>The car finally stopped at the destination, and she stepped out empty handed as she had been for the past four decades. The giggling of children lost stopped as she entered the gates of the cemetery. On the way to the stone marker, Anne saw and picked up a small slab of flat rock. It was no larger than a notebook, and didn't weigh all that much considering its thickness. Filled with a strange mix of ease and contrition, Anne set the slab before the larger stone marker. She would write no name on it, not when it never had a name.</p><p>She stood in front of the grave, her arms crossed at her stomach and slightly leaning forward. Tears hung by a thin thread at the edge of her eyes, and the name carved into the stone blurred slightly more every passing second. She quickly blinked, and the dangerous tear fell abruptly to her cheek, the smallest of droplets remaining caught in her eyelash. After a quick glance at the dulling diamond on her left hand, the woman left.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Kiss It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not happy with it, to be honest, but better than nothing. It's a small glimpse into Integra's and Anne's relationship. I meant it to be formal externally. Externally.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>First you clean it, give it a nice, big kiss, and cover it up until it heals. Just like that.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Integra stared at the cut skin as Anne washed it for her. Anne had warned the girl not to run too fast, but Integra was a headstrong child and did as she pleased. It frustrated the maid, and yet her affection remained unwavering.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A big kiss.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Anne gently kissed the cut and tickled the child, causing the girl to fall into her arms in a fit of giggles. "It doesn't hurt anymore, Anne."</em>
</p><p><em>"</em> <em>Of course it doesn't. Kisses make the pain go away."</em></p><p>"Kiss it for me, consider that an order." Integra held her bloodied finger above the young vampire, her eyes amused and narrowing towards her.</p><p>Seras' cheeks flushed as she stuck out her tongue, awaiting the blood to drip into her mouth. The softest breath of relief was heard as Seras licked the open wound, the taste of the fresh virgin blood restoring her energy. "Don't get overly hasty and bite down…"</p><p>
  <em>I'm going to eat you!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Integra squealed as Anne suddenly swung her up into her arms, making loud munching sounds around Integra's head while the girl kicked wildly in the air. Her father was busy that day and had ordered for his servants to take Hellsing's heir to the park for some well-earned play time.</em>
</p><p><em>"</em> <em>She caught me," Integra told Walter as the butler set her down to have her lunch.</em></p><p><em>"</em> <em>Anne used to hunt animals in Africa. I'm sure she's excellent at finding mischievous children."</em></p><p><em>"</em> <em>Why doesn't she hunt animals in Africa anymore?"</em></p><p>
  <em>Walter regarded her kindly. "You should ask her."</em>
</p><p><em>"</em> <em>I'm glad she doesn't."</em></p><p>Integra stared quietly from a distance as she observed Anne separating the clothes. The elderly maid still stood with an air of dignity, and even as she washed clothing, she commanded a certain respect in compliance with her age. It wasn't long before Anne turned. Integra figured she'd notice her presence very soon. As the two shared a small glance, Anne bowed courteously. She looked away from Hellsing's commander once more, a gentle smile forming.</p><p>"Did I make the right decision?"</p><p>It was a moment of weakness on Integra's part, a hint of doubt that she never dared to show. She kept her unsure expression hidden, although failed to mask her voice of uncertainty.</p><p>"You're asking the wrong person." Anne was gentle in her reply. "I know nothing at all, Sir Integra. I am only a servant, your servant, my lady."</p><p>Was that all?</p><p>It was all that was acceptable.</p><p>Integra nodded with understanding as she settled herself down on her bed. As Anne had done since the young woman's girlhood, she removed her shoes and helped her with her coat. Anne seemed to pause when holding Integra's lovely blonde hair, remembering the times she used to brush the damned thing and the endless cries from the small mistress. She pulled too hard, or the tails were too loose. Eventually, Anne stopped fixing her hair altogether and simply brushed it in the mornings.</p><p>Anne took her coat and shoes to be cleaned, although planning to return for the rest of the clothing after Integra was ready for sleep. "Anne," Integra began, earning the steward's attention. "Remember your orders. I expect more information regarding the escaped vampire by tomorrow afternoon. I'm not sure whom to find more suspicious: MI6 or the Vatican. Walter should be ready for contact with the General Director of intelligence and then we'll handle our old friends of Iscariot."</p><p>"Certainly, Miss Integra. Pardon my shortcomings; I'm simply not as capable as Walter in areas of research. However, if you need me to skin a pig for you, I consider myself excelled in that field."</p><p>Integra chuckled. "I may, so I'll be holding you accountable to that."</p><p>"Rest easy, Sir Integra."</p><p>"Yes, you too."</p><p>Anne smiled at the woman before leaving her to her business. In the washroom, Anne steam cleaned her coat, and set her shoes apart to be shined later on. As Anne hung up the coat, she remembered the first coat Integra had worn. It was a small little pink thing. Arthur had no clue what to put on the girl and had the responsibility passed on to the servant. A woman should know what girls wear, he assumed. Therefore, Anne spent generously on frilly dresses, pink coats, white and black Mary Jane shoes, flowery headbands, and little heart hair clips. The frown on the babe's face was memorable. That precious little frown. Ever since Alucard's release, Anne saw it often on Integra.</p><p>The steward returned to Integra's room, the same room she had slept in since she was a child. She was a woman of habit. She never dared to change much. To that day, she silently suffered through any changes of Anne's cleaning traditions.</p><p>Anne collected the dirty clothes of that day, and stood in silence for a moment as Integra slept. A hand slightly twitched at the desire to stroke her cheek and kiss her forehead the way she used to when she was no more than 4 years old. Those beautiful little blue eyes filled with love and wonder. Now, they must be hardened with esteem and competence. Anne suppressed her wishes to gush praise at her, to tell her how proud she was upon seeing her grow, and how much her heart filled with joy to hear her speak with resolve. She wished to tell Integra her thoughts when she asked for them, and let her know of the remarkable job she did commanding her organization.</p><p>But she didn't.</p><p>She was only a servant.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A Debt to Collect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: graphic content ahead.</p><p>READ: Anne is about early to mid 30s in this chapter. So this isn't usual elderly Anne, this is a glimpse into her character during her prime as a huntress. You can make your own conclusions regarding her characterization at this time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The body lay in increasing waste, a thin slice down the abdomen bursting with pressure. Blessed bullets riddled the corpse's limbs, the skin around it swelling until it approached an odd resemblance to a glossy golf ball. Whatever holy power those bullets held coursed through the body of the creature, its mouth agape in stunned horror as two blades pierced its lower abdomen. At the contact of the cold silver, the content of the monster's gut spilled onto the woman's feet. Rotting sinews thick and brown with decaying blood stained once glimmering heels, heels that punctured through long, unwinding bowels.</p><p>"How appropriate," she said softly. "It is remarkably fitting how such a smug and fearsome creature as yourself be reduced to a pile of shit."</p><p>Amber eyes glared down at the gasping fiend, wide eyes tarnished with blood pooling in its corners staring back the sneering huntress. "Not…me…"</p><p>Anne let out a small breath of comfort, frowning ever so slightly. "I know, my love. I'm certain you were once a lovely woman. I can see it. Your smile, I imagine, must've been so charming. Yes, I can see you in exquisite dresses walking to your flat with a smitten fellow, sweet words coating rather nasty intentions. It breaks my heart, truly. I can barely stand to see those sharpened teeth, what awful things they did to your smile. Absolutely horrid fangs…"</p><p>A scream pierced through the dark as the barrel of the young woman's sniper displaced those horrid fangs from the other's mouth. It was only right, to help the girl regain her pretty smile. Anne chuckled good-heartedly. "Beauty is pain, isn't it? Cardinal rule women learn early in their rearing. Women are, after all, nothing more than sweet plates of dessert. Food to be chewed by the mouths of men, burped after their stomachs are filled. We make ourselves appetizing, perhaps then we shall be sold to a tolerable gentleman."</p><p>"W-why…?"</p><p>Anne raised a brow. "Why don't I kill you?"</p><p>The vampire slowly nodded, the blood pooled in her collarbone dripping down the juncture of her neck and sprinkling the moist soil.</p><p>"Ah." She smiled towards her prey, a soft laughter escaping her lips before her sentiments developed into a feminine tenderness. "You see, darling. You pretty girl. You are part of a debt. A debt I intend to collect. How many souls did that belly of yours have? How many sons did you take from their mothers, husbands from wives, and fathers from children? The debt is substantial, and a quick death is never enough. Each of you monsters has a price to pay, a price I'm glad to charge. That cheeky grin you had before you killed that officer…how many of those fangs do you think it was worth? One? Two? Ten perhaps? Maybe even your tongue. The price is steep. Your corpulent husk isn't enough, and so I oversee the proper handling to inflate its worth."</p><p>"But I…couldn't…was forced…"</p><p>A choked gasp escaped from the corpse as Anne drove a silver stake into her throat. "Shh…you mustn't speak. The dead have no more tales to tell." Anne stood tall once more, casting a small somber glance at the smirking moon. "Forced…unfair…what would you have me think? You're far from alone in every aspect I can think of. We are all in service of chance, slaves of circumstance, and prisoners of our birth. Wishful thoughts carry us a great distance from our reality, but thoughts that can produce nothing are valued at nothing. Only what's real matters anymore. Feel pity for you? Is that what you want? I can't do that. Should I cry for every being served a cruel fate, I'd surely flood the world with my tears. I can't collect what's mine with water in my eyes, but please, do accept my deepest apologies. And love…may you find peace in Hell."</p><p>The trees rustled as frightened ravens desperately flew from their nests, the hoarse, guttural screech shattering their once peaceful rest. In a matter of seconds, the wretched sound was gone, replaced with a low giggles of satisfaction followed by small hums of sorrow. What a gentle girl she was, killed with childish ease. Anne believed her to had once been such a kind little thing, believed it until the moment she slit her heart in two.</p><p>One pound of flesh, the debt remained.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Rumours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The front was always empty. With only one master and no guests, the manor remained quiet and dull. It was preferred that way. The master was not one fond of surprises, and disturbances on her grounds tended to indicate the presence of unwelcomed guests or unruly subjects. No, the front of the mansion remained pristine, untouched, unseen, and untroubled.</p><p>The back, however…</p><p>The back was comparable to a busy port. Servants streaming in and out, holding something to be cleaned, washed, transported, and disposed of. The number of help necessary to maintain each meter of the house and its inhabitants were numerous and messy. The soldiers had to be fed, clothed, and washed. Soldiers flanked all corners of the mansion, and even headquarters in London were to be accounted for in case of unexpected and unwelcomed visitors. This on top of their own needs and messes to be looked after and cleaned up.</p><p>During dinner hours, the back was so filled it became almost stagnant. Food had to be lined up at the mess halls for the soldiers, dishes needed to be taken back, tables needed to be set up, and nightly routines prepared. The first and foremost priority for the cooks was, of course, Sir Integra's meal. Hers was the most carefully cooked, tasted, and served by the dutiful butler to the master's table. For one woman, she was provided the largest meal in order to maintain a wide array of options should she bore of one plate or suddenly crave something different.</p><p>During dinner hours, it was then that the busty cooks and aging maids had their chance to take a peek at the one and only Hellsing butler. It was a phenomenon that amused the stewardess who was given complete charge of overlooking all the maids. Most of the younger ladies (and some gentlemen) gave her trouble with their fondness for handsome soldiers coupled with limited outside interaction. The older women, however, sat disinterestedly on their benches or rooms cleaning along. Younger men had no interest in the decrepit. Of that, Anne knew personally.</p><p>For those same older women, nevertheless, dinnertime was prime time. The older male cooks were in full display working above steaming hot stoves and aging gardeners with new learners came in from a full day of outdoor work. The elderly women of less filthy tastes would then see the two onsite doctors and older male nurses nearby. Then, of course, was the only Butler.</p><p>It was no secret that Walter C. Dornez was one hell of a good-looking silver fox. As he entered the back room where the maids washed dishes while the cooks prepared and decorated the food, there was a small flood of whistles, women calling out his name, and bemused giggles. The younger girls stuck out their tongues in a gagging reflex while the older women shrugged and indulged.</p><p>Besides Anne, an elderly cook turned towards the incoming butler and shook her head. "That man makes every woman over 50 weak at the knees."</p><p>Anne smiled. "And under 50. For different reasons, of course."</p><p>The cook, Margaret "Maggie" Yeats, laughed at this as she cleared the steam from her station and moved the meat onto a white porcelain plate. Maggie was among the oldest of cooks, having been a favourite of Arthur Hellsing himself with her odd mix of spices and seasonings on her meat and potatoes. Her apprentice, a 28 year old pretty, young thing, spent her time baking desserts neither Anne nor Maggie could eat after they turned 55 years old. Being a rather sweet girl, she showed the servants around her the newest cake or muffin design. Walter himself had once commented how delightful they looked. If Walter thought they were "delightful" then that could mean a step closer to actually showing the master herself. Anne had spent 40 years with that man and didn't have the heart to tell the girl that most of his statements were dismissive in nature.</p><p>"Not a lot of options for us here, I'm afraid," Maggie went on, resigned. "So we gawk at the same men every day and hope their faces still amaze us tomorrow."</p><p>"Really, I am genuinely amazed every day. I keep looking and none of us appear to be younger…what a disillusioning thought."</p><p>"What a pity, too. Laborious work doesn't exactly lend us much chance to age gracefully." Maggie glanced at the butler as he picked up two plates to place onto a cart he'd transport to the main dining hall. "God, he was something to look at back then. Still is now, but then…not a single girl here would be going to her room with dry knickers."</p><p>"He was rather fit, wasn't he? I remember well. This place was a schoolgirl's bedroom after he left. Unfortunate that his disposition wasn't nearly as handsome."</p><p>"If a man can have any woman he wants at any hour he wants, I don't imagine it will be." Maggie chuckled and grinned towards Anne. "Don't pretend you weren't included. Let's not lie to each other. We've known the other far too long for that."</p><p>"Oh, I wasn't pretending. I thought what I thought, but still I never forgot about my own man."</p><p>"There are rumors of nights that say otherwise."</p><p>Anne raised her brow at her. "And if the rumors were true, it doesn't change my statement."</p><p>"Even during?"</p><p>"I remembered him most during. Assuming that these vicious rumors are true."</p><p>"Running on this assumption, care to share your reasoning?"</p><p>Anne sighed and put down her teacup. "Well," she began. "Those rumored nights had nothing more to them than a quick search for sufficient gratification. Nothing at all like what I experienced when my husband was alive, bless his soul. He'd get on, go in, and get off me and I'd be on my way with an unbearable weight on my shoulders for succumbing to something as base as my sexual desires while my husband's death was still fresh in my memory. Women have their needs, certainly, but then…I thought I was better than that. I was at the age where I thought shagging a man indicated some sort of affection, and doing so was a sign that I no longer cared about my first love. It felt horribly improper of me, shameful…no…vile, that I dared have any physical pleasure while he and my own son rotted in the ground. I remembered him most during those rumored nights. I went for relief, stayed until I was satisfied, and I came back disgusted with myself."</p><p>"So you survived and decided to throw your life away?"</p><p>"That's really the root of it all. I did. In more ways than one. Sex is the most meaningless way I can think of, there's so much more wrong I've done that I must carry to my grave. It's the only place I can set them down."</p><p>Maggie nodded in understanding. She didn't know of a worker who didn't come with his or her own heavy-hearted stories. Men and women did not arrive to the Hellsing Organization filled with hopes and dreams of the future. It was an ill quality to have when, besides basic necessity, all the organization guaranteed was a possibility of death at the hands of immortal creatures. With a deep breath, Maggie pushed the finish plate aside into a line that would be loaded onto a cart. "So…continuing to assume any truth to these rumours…how was he?"</p><p>Anne laughed lightly at this, more so as Walter came back into the room to drop off dishes and bring back a specifically requested dessert. In a brief moment, they exchanged glances; old wrinkled eyes staring at each other in an odd combination of fond and bitter memories, and general indifference. 40 long years. "I've never been able to decide if I was very, very good or he wasn't as remarkable as he thought. Arguments could be made for both."</p><p>The cook burst into loud laughter, and quickly, Anne smiled kindly at Walter while he shook his head bemusedly before walking off. Pushing herself off the counter, she tossed the cup in a container of dirty dishes for later. For now, she had better things to clean. "Very well," she continued. "I mustn't speak anymore. I don't want to feed any of these atrocious rumours. I am a proper Englishwoman and I will not give life to scandal."</p><p>"We don't want that."</p><p>"Not at all. I haven't touched a man since 1986. Of that I'm absolutely certain. Irrefutable."</p><p>"I will never question your decency again."</p><p>"And I will never give you reason to question it. Now that my dignity has been thoroughly defamed with these appalling stories, I will leave you to your duties and empty gossips."</p><p>"Best to you."</p><p>The nerve of some bored servants with their silly talks, assuming the rumors are false.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Memories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The blood was thick and fresh, glimmering in the soft moonlight. It pooled at the top of her breasts, congealing to the soft skin and seeping into the crevice of her mounds. Splatters of the deep red substance stained her face and torso, dripping down her sides, and colouring the tips of her fingers almost violet and oily. It was a beautiful sight, the gentle mix of crimson smeared against ivory skin.</p><p>No, it was an arousing sight. Her skirt was torn, her shirt all but left in tatters, and her hair wet with sweat and more blood. Strands clung to her cheek and chin, her lips pink and warm with the heat of battle, and her thoughts still clouded with the fierceness of her kills. From the corner of his eye, he could still see the mangled bodies she had left behind. Bloated, cracking, and twisted by holy bullets and silver knives. Fangs ripped from their mouth and scattered about the floor, eyes hanging from their sockets by a thick vein, and throats cut down to the bone. For some unlucky ones, usually men, she had opened their chest cavities and sliced their hearts in half. Those creatures broke her heart, she was only returning the favour.</p><p>As the butler lied there beneath her, he felt like another one of her prey. Another prey for this sadistic huntress, broken by misfortune and savagery, overwhelmed by grief and vengeance. The thought made him shiver, his body warmer, and his heart race with anticipation. What monster this lovely woman had become, it delighted him. A powerful morbid sensuality surrounded her, and for the first time in far too long, he desired a woman's passion. No, a huntress's passion, armed with cold indifference and calculating cruelty.</p><p>The woman sensed his lust, amused and revolted by his sudden interest in her. No, not sudden. He grew more thrilled every day watching her spiral into madness. It excited him, stirred his twisted fantasies, and made him as hungry for her slim body. Yes, she knew. What a nice slice of cake she was to him now in the chaos of battle, her amber eyes stained with hatred and callous ferocity that inspired the fire in his belly to burn wildly. As she dragged her blood-soaked fingertips down his neck and collar, she imagined he wanted to chew her up ravenously, and when he was full, he'd belch her.</p><p>"Are you enjoying yourself, Walter?" she questioned, her voice smooth and sultry.</p><p>He eyed her carefully, noticing the amusement in her expression. "Not as much as I'd like."</p><p>"What a pity." She chuckled as she pressed down on his lower region, stimulating his already present interest.</p><p>"Indeed it is. A shame, really, and nastily unjust. You've been stealing all the fun this entire evening."</p><p>"Does that vex you?"</p><p>He scoffed. "Obviously not…or at least, it can be compensated."</p><p>She felt his hands rest on her hips, relishing the feeling of ripped clothes barely covering her skin. For a moment, she considered it. She slaughtered dozens tonight, and the sensation of a monster gasping for their blasphemous un-life…it was absolutely exhilarating.</p><p>Still, she moved his hands away. "My apologies…I'm married."</p><p>"You mean you were married."</p><p>"It makes no difference, not when he didn't leave me by his own will."</p><p>"Don't be absurd. A corpse does not care for its widow."</p><p>"Enough talk of that." Anne stood up, scanning the area for the pet vampire. Such a loud, obnoxious creature, how would one not be able to spot him easily? Unless he decided tonight was a good night for his occasional brooding.</p><p>The butler stood beside the maid, bemused at her rejection of him. What a comically repugnant thought. The Angel of Death scorned for the sake of a rotting corpse somewhere deep in the dirt. "It's been 6 years since his death," Walter said, dismissing the absent Alucard. He was never one to worry about the vampire; it wasn't as if the thing could die anyway. One way or another, the dog will find its way back to the master.</p><p>"Yes, I'm aware," replied Anne softly. "I suppose we should move on without him."</p><p>Without a word, Walter walked forward, soon sensing Anne walking steadily behind him. It would be a fairly short walk, only 30 minutes to the main camp where they were stationed on their field mission. From there, it was a simple 2 hours ride back to London.</p><p>"Have you ever been in love, Walter C. Dornez?"</p><p>Walter paused at the sudden question, facing the silly girl. "No."</p><p>"Then I strongly suggest silencing yourself on matters you understand nothing about."</p><p>"I know my share of things."</p><p>Anne walked closely up to him, resting her hand on his chest while staring into his grey eyes. "I never said anything about knowing. I said you didn't understand. You could know everything, but you'll never understand anything."</p><p>"Care to make sense of that?"</p><p>"You can know about a widow's grief, but you couldn't understand it. Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever understand what it means to be human, if you feel those same things the common man walking down a dirty city street feels."</p><p>"Perhaps I don't. It's a quality I'm rather grateful to possess. Lust, I can handle. Even right now, I wouldn't mind throwing you against ground and having my way. But love…absurd. A tired old thing, foolish in essence and a sleepless liar. Look at you, reducing yourself to nothing but an expendable weapon in love with a pile of decaying flesh. Pathetic."</p><p>"That was driven by hate."</p><p>"Hate you wouldn't have felt if you hadn't loved."</p><p>"There you are…failing to understand once more. Sounding like a petulant little boy stomping his oversized foot against the ground crying about some indifferent girl he failed to woo. Me the pathetic one? To an extent, I can't argue with you about that matter. But don't pretend you aren't as pitiful as I am. We're both expendable weapons. I'm a bitch and you're a hound, living the same wretched life. For our own reasons, of course. We were all born into this world's horror, but at least I found a blissful respite…even if it was brief. And here you are: bitter."</p><p>"Bitter? Hardly. No, I would say I'm more…cautious about my emotions. We all have our frustrations, and a woman's love wouldn't alleviate a bloody thing. Would I be less of a hound if I loved a bitch? Our life demands service. Everything else is a lethal distraction. My respite is the promise of death, as is yours now. Nothing else matters, nothing else will ever matter. A weapon, yes…but I'm not the one inflicting misery upon myself over a corpse…rubbish left to worms."</p><p>Walter felt a sharp sting on his cheek, realizing Anne had slapped him across the face. Just as she was about to slap him again, he grabbed her wrist, squeezing tightly. There was no sympathy in him, no shame in his words. Only punishing sincerity. "Mocking me…is this how you try to seduce me?"</p><p>"Try? What makes you think I'm trying? Certainly, I do find you attractive. You're a beautiful woman, but I'm not begging for your cunt."</p><p>Anne's raged swelled, and she found herself reaching for her gun. Thin wires wrapped around her other wrist, pulling it up to his hand. "Let's not do anything you'll regret," he warned.</p><p>"You're absolutely detestable. A fiend," she said heatedly.</p><p>"And you desire me, don't you? That woman you were, that was all a farce created by expectation. You love to kill more than you love any man. You're no longer suffocated by a wife's duty; your duty now is to death. And you revel in it."</p><p>"I kill to avenge the man I love…it is the reason it brings me pleasure to see them choke on their own blood."</p><p>Walter stared at her for a long while, eventually releasing her. "We should get back to camp. Hurry." And so she went, wracked by grief.</p><p>Staring at the inside of the tent from her cushioned seat, she remembered that night: the cold cot, the sharpness of her shrieks, the cowardice in her desperation to escape, the rustle of trees at her beloved's pitched screams as he slowly died…the corpse of her baby boy in her hands as she wailed.</p><p>She no longer knew what she was, losing herself in memories, rage, and bitterness. Walter was right; she reveled in her service to death. For death now had her husband, and commanded those that would insult it with immortality. A command she was happy to fulfill for it fueled her vengeance, tossed compensation in the debt she demanded be paid by those wretched unholy beasts.</p><p>Confused and resentful, she longed to forget about that night. She was indescribably pathetic.</p><p>The distraught woman appeared before the cold, callous man. With a forgotten sexual prowess, she untied her robe, letting it fall carelessly onto the ground. Her body exposed, she dismissed their earlier feud and his sickening words. Once more with her sitting atop him, she unbuttoned his vest and dress shirt, her still bloodied fingers tracing his collar. "Make me forget. Have your way."</p><p>He smirked. "As you wish, Miss Douglas."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Burden of Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's easy to forget the old.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyone forgets about the elderly.</p>
<p>Anne sat on a bench outside in the manor grounds, doting on her two dogs. Around her, flowers she had planted were plucked off or trampled on, and roots scattered about her feet. The guilty animals initially backed away from the elder human as she chided them for creating such a big mess and ruining her small patch of flowers. It was such a grand mansion with acres of land for them to run around in, and somehow they managed to destroy the one patch Anne grew her flowers in.</p>
<p>After her disappointment subsided, Anne was quick to forgive her two companions and provided them with ample affection. They were the closest thing to children she ever had, and she spoiled them rotten to the best of her abilities. Ladybird, she thought, would need a grooming soon, and Lydia was behind on her medication. Things were busy around the mansion, but it was no excuse to be negligent.</p>
<p>Upon hearing the faintest rustle, Anne pulled out her gun and aimed it at the source of the sound, only to find an amused Walter with a hand faintly up and another holding an umbrella. "Sprightly as ever, I see."</p>
<p>Anne scoffed. "You startled me."</p>
<p>"My deepest apologies. You should be getting inside, the weather doesn't seem too agreeable today."</p>
<p>"Does it matter?"</p>
<p>Walter let out a small breath as he stared at the woman getting damp due to the light drizzle of rain. She gazed into the distance, apathetic towards her surroundings and ashamed of her pathetic presence. There was nothing he could say to the woman that meant anything to her. The story was the same as always: she was old, lonely, and likely forgotten by her own family. A proper price for her sins. The elderly were never missed, she'd muse. They were tossed aside for the freshness of youth, and inside their wrinkled bodies, only felt the weight of time as they inched closer to an irrelevant death.</p>
<p>It was a burden the old butler felt as well. The burden of a useless and trivial existence, his once robust body humbled by time's cruelty and weight of human frailty. Walter sat beside the unfazed woman, finding an odd consolation in her company. Perhaps it was because they were two old retirees with rusty knees sitting on rocking chairs when they weren't serving their master. In any case, she could use the umbrella. Anne had aged well in physical appearance, but her body was more fragile than his, something he imagined was a result of decades spent grieving.</p>
<p>Being her only human company, Anne leaned against the old butler, resting her head on his shoulder. She could still recall the age where she thought it'd be scandalous to do so, now she couldn't give a rat's wet bottom. Walter, in return, could recall the age he'd find it slightly irritating considering his upright and self-important attitude, now he put his arm around her and gave even less of a care about it. The only thing he could care about at that moment was making sure the dogs didn't spray mud all over the bottom of his trousers. He lost count of the times he requested Anne keep her mutts at bay. They were large, frequently dirty, malodourous, and slobbered all of his shoes and the floors when they were let inside.</p>
<p>"Nobody remembers us," Anne muttered. "Why would anyone waste their time remembering the old and decrepit?"</p>
<p>"Come on, now. Getting old isn't all that dreadful. We're enjoying our prosperity after all those years of violence. This is the delight of proper English gentlemen and ladies."</p>
<p>Anne glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow. "You? Enjoying your years without a drop of violence? Look at you lying to me. I thought we were better friends than that, Walter. That's all rubbish, we both know it."</p>
<p>"Perhaps, but the sentiment still matters."</p>
<p>"Bugger it all."</p>
<p>Walter chuckled, relaxing his usually stiff posture. "Yes, I suppose so."</p>
<p>Dreamily, she touched his gloved palm, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes in thought. "Time is a terrible thing, Walter. The only good that comes from it are fond memories. Even the undead, standing in their immortality, are tortured by Time's Watch. While we shrivel up into dust, those monsters are driven to deepest depths of madness."</p>
<p>"I'm afraid you're mistaken, love. Time is an abstract construction; it chases the common man throughout his life, ticks readily in his ears counting down to the moment his body is thrown into a pit of dirt. A fearsome thing, but a tormentor? Hardly. Time is a scribe…keeping record of the cruelty life inflicts upon those living in its realm as it mocks the suffering. It will one day end for you and I. Time will move on, and in death, we escape the maddening burden of this existence. But monsters such as Alucard…Time remains apathetic to their cries as long as they have a place among the living."</p>
<p>Anne nodded in agreement, eventually looking up at the aged butler. For a second, she saw his youthful face once more. It's been so long, but she still remembered how handsome he used to be. In truth, he was still handsome, a right fit old man. Perhaps in another life, they would've gotten along better instead spending all those years resenting and scorning one another.</p>
<p>Noticing her glance, Walter locked eyes with her, silver meeting gold, both filled with memories of a lifetime of horrors. He didn't flinch when she gently touched his face, having always wondered what exactly that woman felt for him. There were times where he could swear she loved him, and other times where he felt like another piece of furniture in her presence, just a simple colleague with his own duties.</p>
<p>Anne, smiling, winked at him. "You're wondering what I feel for you, am I right?"</p>
<p>"If you insist."</p>
<p>She laughed. "Whatever you want, Walter. I feel whatever you'd like."</p>
<p>"I'd like some honesty. As you said yourself, I thought we were better friends than to lie to each other."</p>
<p>"Oh, I am being honest. Almost 70 years old and you still don't understand a bloody thing."</p>
<p>She stood, deciding her clothing was soiled enough for the day. Walter soon stood as well, sharing his umbrella with her. At the back entrance into the mansion, Anne paused for a moment. She turned towards him, her stance still gracious, as any proper Englishwoman should be no matter how wet and dirty she was at the moment.</p>
<p>There was no hurry, and so she pressed her lips against his slowly. It was no longer a surprise that he accepted, even kissed her back. It had stopped being a surprise more than a decade ago, when Anne let go of her guilt in being a woman and Walter felt an overwhelming desire to escape from his aging reflection for a moment.</p>
<p>"You were right," she whispered, parting from him. "Love is a liar, an old sleepless fool. All that nonsense it convinces you to believe…even the worst of absurdities."</p>
<p>The corner of his lips curved into a smile. "And you were right yourself, I must confess. Possessing it does provide a rather blissful respite from a devastating reality. Lies make everything so much sweeter."</p>
<p>"Are we through being philosophers?"</p>
<p>"Only for the evening," he joked.</p>
<p>Before they parted ways, Anne quickly grabbed his sleeve. "Walter…don't ever leave me alone in this world."</p>
<p>He paused, deep in thought. Surely, she had affection for him if she was going to say silly things like that. Then again, a woman so desperately lonely, why wouldn't she say that to the nearest old sod she found? After all, she seemed so calm saying it, her voice only tired rather than tender. Never mind it all. He smiled at her, nodding once. "As you wish."</p>
<p>"And Walter…"</p>
<p>"Yes?"</p>
<p>"You'll never understand a bloody thing."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Wild Geese</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a terribly bothersome thing, the lot of revelrous soldiers that now stationed the halls of the Hellsing manor and brought undue torment on already tedious duties. The previous soldiers were not respite from responsibility, but these mercenaries presented themselves a particular challenge among the Hellsing staff. The cooks would bitterly chatter and grumble amongst themselves as their dishes were mocked for their refinery or odd textures, textures suited for royalty in their humble opinion. Young maids walked hurriedly across rooms in avoidance of the soldiers who whistled at their sight and remarked rather vile things of their bodies. The Hellsing help found itself in a precarious position of obligation and dignity, until it was decided enough was enough.</p>
<p>In defence of the younger maids, Anne took it upon herself to tidy up after the members of the Wild Geese when the necessity arose. The girls had no adequate training in self defence, a pitiful failing of Hellsing policies, and Anne was a tired old thing with nothing of value to lose, therefore she would have no others assigned to them. A gun also helped, although glancing at their soft bellied bodies, she hardly believed it was merited. The duties were fairly simple. She would collect used cutlery and plates, soiled linens, and dirtied uniforms for regular cleaning. Most days the butler would accompany her to deliver drinks and requested foods at the behest of their captain.</p>
<p>Their leader called himself Pip Bernadotte, a name Anne would not bother to confirm and therefore took at face value. He was an interesting figure, tall with braided red hair and an Australian slouch hat he wore sloppily. A lit cigarette was never too far from him, and oftentimes reminded Anne of Arthur's and Walter's terrible habits in their youth. She had never been a smoker, even disdaining her late husband's fondness for cigars and ever revolted by the smell of burning tobacco. However, it wasn't her place to make demands.</p>
<p>As it normally was, the soldiers would become rowdy upon her entrance to their private mess hall. Some would express apparent disappointment with seeing her, others would chuckle and start describing some nauseating detail of their dining experience. It was easy enough to dismiss, and Anne would merely perform her duties undisturbed.</p>
<p>"Oh come on! This old hag again? When are they bringing back the pretty broads?" one soldier loudly complained.</p>
<p>Another shrugged. "She's pretty good looking, one of those MILFs."</p>
<p>"MILF? She looks like she belongs in an urn!"</p>
<p>"Still, got a nice rack on her. And given our previous assignment, I'd say we've gotten good at carrying around bags of wet sand."</p>
<p>"Wet sand? How'd the hell that happen? Pissing yourself or bad at aiming?"</p>
<p>There was a roar of laughter amongst the soldiers as Anne, unlike other evenings, also brought in beverages for everyone. Normally Walter would be the one to perform those duties, but he was busy himself with a special request from Integra. It was nothing Anne minded, and so she complied to the unfamiliar responsibilities.</p>
<p>Pip raised an eyebrow at his soldiers' comments and returned his gaze to the older maid. She maintained her composure and gracious expression, continuing to perform her assignment as directed without comment or complaint. A mark of a soldier, Pip thought. Or rather, a mark of a seasoned weapon. The woman, he concluded, was nothing to scoff at and he scowled at the members of the Wild Geese.</p>
<p>"Everybody shut up!" Pip shouted suddenly, catching the attention of everyone in the room. "We're mercenaries, not mongrels. Show some respect."</p>
<p>"We're just kidding," the soldier complained. "I can promise you, no-one's touching that."</p>
<p>"No-one's touching anything. You want something to grab, you've got cocks in your trousers you can entertain all you want." Pip nodded slightly at Anne, who regarded him in appreciation while continuing to hand the soldiers their drinks. "I apologise on behalf of my men. It seems they've lost their good sense."</p>
<p>"A common quality among mercenaries, I imagine," Anne said. "Otherwise I'm certain they'd have proper work."</p>
<p>Pip laughed at this and shook his head. "You're not wrong. I must say I haven't made sound judgments in a long while myself, probably why Rafer still carries a gun!"</p>
<p>"Was a sordid lack of judgement the reason you accepted this assignment, Mr. Bernadotte? Why lead your men to battle against the undead?"</p>
<p>"I confess I didn't think too specifically of the assignment," Pip responded coolly, leaning back on his seat and lighting a cigarette. "When we are told monsters, we assume communists or religious fanatics."</p>
<p>Anne chuckled lowly. "Well, it seems I was mistaken about your judgement then. After all, vampires aren't the only sort of monster we'll be having you lot aim your guns towards. German fascists and fanatical Catholic priests are also included."</p>
<p>"An unholy trinity of absolute fuckery," he joked, raising his hands in the air in mocking resignation. This seemed to bemuse the maid before him and she smiled in earnest towards her tray of beverages. "Do you want to know something else about my judgement, ma chérie? There isn't a lot I can say I pride myself in. It doesn't take great intellect or charisma to command men to shoot a gun, nor does one need skill to pull a trigger. But what I can do is read people. I hear tales from every line on a person's face, I listen to slacked shoulders and tired eyes. I see nothing but bad sadness in yours."</p>
<p>"You shouldn't pride yourself in that either," Anne responded, wiping down the emptied tray. "Surely there are better things to flatter yourself in."</p>
<p>"You've lost a great deal. I can tell."</p>
<p>"Can you? I'm not surprised. People don't serve rubbish beer to rubbish hired guns unless there was nothing better for them."</p>
<p>"Is there nothing better for you, madame? Truly? Or is that something only you believe? What great melancholy reflection should I ascribe to? You should drink some of the rubbish beer, enjoy this rubbish life for all it's worth!"</p>
<p>Anne once more regarded the captain of the Wild Geese with indifferent kindness and slightly bowed in exit. "Enjoy your night, Mr. Bernadotte, for all it's worth." With that, Anne made her way out of the private mess hall and into the dark corridors of the mansion to fulfill the rest of her evening's duties. Captain Pip Bernadotte laughed in amusement at the conversation with the elderly maid, finding himself agreeing with one of his subordinates regarding her rather attractive features given her age. However, his grandmother didn't neglect him enough to think of the old maid as anything more than pleasantly attractive and he left it there.</p>
<p>"Her majesty sure had a stick up her ass, huh Captain Bernadotte?" Rafer said, brandishing his gun at nothing which he now protectively held while drinking the cold beer provided to him.</p>
<p>Pip chuckled and shrugged. "One of the many charms of a British woman. Those sticks are how they stand so tall and proper."</p>
<p>The men laughed for a moment until there was a sudden sharpness spreading throughout their mouths. The numbness began as an uncomfortable twinge on the tip of their tongues, and before any could realise or protest against the fading sensation, their tongues had become numb and swelled against the roof of their mouths. Their protests were nothing more than grunting and angered exclamations of indignation and deception.</p>
<p>Pip scoffed and poured the drink onto the floor. He had not taken a sip of it, after all, he was an excellent judge of character and he could see a woman's wrath from any distance. Especially one before him. It became clear Anne had added numbing agents to their beverages as to finally silence the rowdiness of the soldiers in the Hellsing manor. It was nothing shocking to Pip, as he knew his men were difficult to manage and the desire to shut them up was expressed prior to him by the butler. "I suspected as much, gentleman. Another charm of a British woman. It is a dangerous thing to slight them."</p>
<p>He laughed as his men groaned and continued to protest against the altered drinks, bemused by the Hellsing help and excited for his new assignment with such interesting new colleagues. "Ah London," he sighed, leaning back and lighting another cigarette. "Such a pleasure to be here."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Our Lady of Sorrows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Longest chapter yet. Will aim for shorter moving forward.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>t was not often that they were recalled, but on occasion dark dreams blacker than a starless night plagued him. In those dreams, he saw three boys. The boys were not considered handsome, not by any standard of any time or era, nor were they gentle or kind in demeanor. The eldest was most visible to him, an eldest he could remember born out of a genuine love he had nevermore experienced. A love he did not care to linger upon. Like his father before him, the eldest boy had black hair, piercing dark eyes, a bent nose, and thin, stern lips that stretched far too much across his face appearing as a perpetual grimace.</p>
<p>And yet all the same the monster before them saw the boys as lovely. Lovely children with pitched laughter and a security that was never afforded to them. The monster could not say exactly who those twisted, lovely children were or from where they came, but in him it invoked the remnants of humanity forsaken in centuries past. Until it was decided none of it mattered, and the sweet memories that were never mused upon were allowed to slip back into a pit of comfortable repression. With the pull of a trigger, the image of the children shattered and the monster bared its fangs.</p>
<p>The boy before the vampire was not nearly as lovely. The boy had blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a fair face which beamed with fear and determination. His resolution was absolute, his mission was paramount, and although his fingers trembled before the vision of death that loomed over him, the fire in his spirit continued to blaze in the face of the black night and the monster that lurked within it. It was...hilarious.</p>
<p>And Alucard laughed, his cackle pierced the silence and shook the bones of the boy present before him. It was all so...well...absurd. This obstinate child with his delusions standing in his way, a comical obstacle of his command to destroy all that threatened to subdue him and his master. Hilarious.</p>
<p>"Get you gone, foul and unholy beast! You have no jurisdiction here," the boy, no more than 40 years old, threatened. The Vatican had never been above sending children to their deaths. It seemed only fitting to Alucard that this child now stood opposing him on their behalf.</p>
<p>Behind the boy priest stood a tall, imposing, and yet crumbling cathedral where Hellsing had received word of a burgeoning coven of vampires. The Cathedral Church of Our Lady of Sorrows, Alucard thought, a proper name for such a pitiful structure.</p>
<p>"Is that so?" responded Alucard, his expression twisted with macabre amusement. "And what jurisdiction do you have of my being here?"</p>
<p>"You specifically? None. As I have no jurisdiction of anything around me. I come here on the Lord's behalf to his home, one of many erected in ardent worship of his light and glory. My jurisdiction is bound to my body, for the grounds we stand upon are under holy law and divine protection. I am no more than a weapon in service to the Lord, his might and mercy, and in my hand I carry only the Lord's will. The Vatican has made it clear before, monster, that pawns of the Church of England are not to overstep their boundaries. This church stands on the Roman Catholic Diocese of Menevia, we in service of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit will eradicate the demonic forces from within and sanctify once more what has been corrupted by you heretics."</p>
<p>Alucard grinned at the boy and clapped slowly at his tawdry performance. "I see now, you were sent by Vatican special division 13, weren't you? I suspected as much. As I suspect they have no real interest in this rat infested shithole, so why not send another pest? I wasn't aware, however, that they had operations in the United Kingdom."</p>
<p>The man took a breath and gulped. "Those in servitude of the Lord stretch far in land and are great in number. I am but one of a greater army of divine justice, fighting a never ending war against dark forces that threaten God's creations."</p>
<p>"Hm, very well. Then ready your weapon, soldier, for battle is near," taunted Alucard as he pulled out his gun, the Hellsing ARMS .454 Casull auto, and pointed it at the boy.</p>
<p>A shot was fired from Alucard's gun, but the priest had already moved out of the way. As Alucard lazily scanned about him, he felt a sudden slice across his abdomen followed by a blunt force digging into his neck. The priest held in his hands dual axes, engraved with holy scripture along the steel of the blade and adorned with symbols of the cross down the length of the handle. Admittedly, the injuries burned as the priest adeptly pulled out his weapons from Alucard's body and then proceeded to disappear again.</p>
<p>Alucard grinned as his torso split open from the axe's strike, and his neck gushed blood onto the ground. It all burned. And yet, he thought, how thrilling. Not another second passed before suddenly the priest was above him, driving the blade of his axe down the center of Alucard's head and tearing his bemused grin in two.</p>
<p>The priest felt the slightest bit of relief as the second axe sliced through the vampire's heart. Alucard gasped and choked as the pieces of his body collapsed, his fingers still twitching and his heart flinging from his chest in tatters. The contents of his head spilled onto the ground, black as the tar underneath, but to the priest's horror the vampire smiled nevertheless. It's silent laughter filled the cold air around him, and a terrible dread weighed heavy on the priest's mortal stomach. Before him the monster lay spread out, his arms stretched far apart and the two half of his head spreading out from his sliced neck. The belly of the beast grew bloated from the blessed blades that had pierced it and bursted with sinews and winding bowels.</p>
<p>The stains on the ground took the shape of a sordid and evil angel, stretched arms, twisted legs, and rotten bowel forming the shape of blood stained wings against the stone of the street. It was art, painted in the presence of God in his divine might.</p>
<p>"Nigel."</p>
<p>The priest turned towards the familiar sound, the voice of a woman he had long known since his infancy. A distance away stood the source of the voice, an elderly woman with light brown hair and deep amber eyes, looking upon him with pity and desperation.</p>
<p>"What…? How can...how are you…?" Fear swelled in him, and he found it difficult to maintain his composure. He had slain the vampire, work still needed to be done.</p>
<p>The elder woman moved towards him carrying a rifle on her back and silver daggers around her waist. She did not appear defensive, nor was she hostile in her movements towards him. Rather, she seemed calm and desolate in her sluggish walk towards the young priest. "My love," said the woman, her expression heavy with grief. "Go home. You shouldn't be here, go on now and return to your mother and father. They'll be so glad to see you."</p>
<p>How dare she insult him. "I don't care who you think you are, you don't talk to me that way, woman."</p>
<p>"I am your aunt," responded Anne. "I'll speak to you as I see fit. Now do as I say, young man, and go back to your mother and father. You don't need to be here."</p>
<p>"I do. This cathedral has become infested with the presence of the devil and as a servant of God I cannot turn my cheek from those who would insult him."</p>
<p>Anne motioned towards the mangled vampire behind him. "Well there you are, good work. God remains dignified. Now go home, Nigel."</p>
<p>Nigel growled at her belittling comment and readied his axes towards her. "I will not take commands from a woman as wretched as you. I know you fought alongside this monster, I know everything. Perhaps you are my aunt, but your status is nothing against that of my heavenly father's. There is work yet to be done inside the cathedral."</p>
<p>"Yes, yes, all that," Anne said, dismissively and waving her hand. "I'm sure your heavenly father is proud of you for all you've done. I can take over from here, now go on and return home."</p>
<p>"Don't talk to me like I'm a child!"</p>
<p>"You are a child! You're my brother's child and I will not have you die tonight! Die for what? Some grubby task assigned to you by grubbier men?"</p>
<p>"They speak as emissaries on behalf of-"</p>
<p>"That's all bollocks, nothing more than Catholic rubbish. I know your mother is Irish, but honestly how did this even happen? The only thing you read as a child were Saturday comics and it appears that's all you read to this day given all the absurdities you're willing to believe from these inane bible-waving ponces. I said, Nigel, go home. I love you, don't make me drag you to your father's house."</p>
<p>Nigel took a deep breath and shook his head. "It seems you'll have to, auntie."</p>
<p>Bloody fantastic, Anne thought. The boy was remarkably slow, not at all surprising to her, and before his axe struck her body she stepped aside and grabbed his forearm. The boy gasped and winced when she twisted his hand and pushed his shoulder down towards the ground. Using his other hand, he attempted to strike her with the accompanying axe although she swiftly and nonchalantly kicked it out of his grip and pinned him down with her boot. "Time out for you," she taunted, tired and visibly irked by his stubbornness.</p>
<p>Nigel laughed then, a sadistic delight now seizing him. "My own aunt," he muttered. "A heretic. The lord works in mysterious ways. Very well, if kill you I must, then kill you I will."</p>
<p>Anne sighed gently, almost bored. "I always knew you ought to have been breastfed. Your mother tried, I know, but what a pity."</p>
<p>A piercing cackle. Anne felt the blood drain from her face. It dawned on her then: Alucard had concluded his act. He'd mock his victims, galvanize them with a false sense of superiority, strength, and security. He'd let them believe they had defeated the great vampire Alucard, the Hellsing family pet, and that they alone stood in the face of this abomination and conquered death itself. And when they were confident and brash with victory, he arose, and made quick work of their arrogance.</p>
<p>It only meant one thing in the woman's eyes. Death was imminent for her nephew. The demon dog would bare his fangs at her brother's boy, at her beloved little one, and clamp down on his flesh and rip it apart while the child screeched with agony and the howls were lost to the trees. The wails of his opponents was nothing but a great orchestra to Alucard, music sweeter than fresh virgin blood.</p>
<p>The urgency set in for her and she released her nephew from her hold, turning towards the rising corpse behind them. The priest behind her gaped in horror as the cadaver rose from the ground, blood spewing and congealing to itself as the flesh became black with rot, fused, and formed once more what had been sliced apart by his axe. The old maid had seen the display more times than she cared to count, and against her better judgement, she readied her weapon. It was all useless against the vampire Alucard, but it would buy her nephew time to get away and go home.</p>
<p>The cackle rose in volume until it surrounded them completely, and Nigel the child whimpered in fear while Anne merely waited for the theatrics to end. She wanted to scoff. Truly, dreadfully ostentatious, she thought as she positioned her gun at her side and unlocked the safety. "Go along now," Anne asserted at Nigel. "Go home."</p>
<p>"I'm afraid I can't let him do that, my dear," said Alucard in a dry and sultry tone. "He stands against me, against us, and you expect me to let him live?"</p>
<p>"Yes, how kind of you to ask," she responded. "He's a silly boy. The bone you're looking for is inside the cathedral, now go fetch it, dog, and leave my nephew be."</p>
<p>"Your nephew? Adorable. However, I don't care what he is, now stand aside before I kill you both."</p>
<p>"Goodness, such a ghastly night for a lady. I've been threatened twice now! Have you killed chivalry too, Alucard?"</p>
<p>"Stand aside, woman. I won't warn you again. He is an enemy of Hellsing and now he's in my way. Have you forgotten your loyalties, maid? Stand aside or count yourself a traitor."</p>
<p>"Is it so treacherous to show mercy? He is misguided, let him-"</p>
<p>"Enough! It no longer matters what he is to you, he is nothing more than another pest in this abandoned pit, and what mercy do you grant a rat? Mercy is relieving him from his imbecilic ideologies. You know as well as I that this petulant child has been poisoned by religious fanatics so what greater favour can I afford him than relief from his asinine duties to a bellicose God? You aren't his mother, you are no-one's mother nor have you ever been. You surrendered any hopes of shitting any out to this world long ago. The priest has made his choices, and like you and I, he must reap the penalty of his misguidance."</p>
<p>Anne was unshaken at his words. She stopped caring. There was no reason to care, he was right, of course. Before she could respond to Alucard, she felt a blade pressed against her back and gasped slightly. Her nephew now held his axes against her, threatening her.</p>
<p>"You stand aside, vampire," he threatened, pointing one of his axes towards Alucard. "Or I'll cut her in half."</p>
<p>Alucard laughed and lowered his weapons. "By all means, the floor is yours. Kill your beloved old Auntie Anne. Nothing would satisfy me more."</p>
<p>"I'll do it!"</p>
<p>Amused, Alucard shrugged. "Yes, I heard. Did you hear, Anne?"</p>
<p>She nodded. "I heard."</p>
<p>"We all heard."</p>
<p>Nigel growled and began to dig his blade into Anne's back, drawing blood from her. "Don't mock me!"</p>
<p>"You do that to yourself. I'm quite enjoying this, so go on silly little man. Threatening to kill your own aunt because you think I'll do as you say. I could never dream such a comedy."</p>
<p>A thump.</p>
<p>Nigel stumbled back, tripping over his own dismembered arm. Thin wires now surrounded the boy and wrapped around his other forearm. He didn't protest, he hadn't started screaming yet, and then with another thump the forearm was cut off and fell unceremoniously to the ground. It was then he cried out in pain and shock, both limbs sliced cleanly off and his weapons scattered about.</p>
<p>Anne knew then, and didn't dare to look. No, she'd simply start grieving and prepare to face the consequences of her actions. She had disobeyed direct orders from Integra in the hopes to save her nephew, but in the end she knew it would all be for naught. She had lost him long before he encountered Hellsing, and now his departure would be finalised. The angel of death had come after her, directed by Integra to return the maid back to headquarters for disciplinary action.</p>
<p>Walter regarded Alucarded with a nod. "You have your orders, Alucard. I'll clean up here."</p>
<p>Alucard smirked and turned towards the cathedral. "Very well. Do as you must."</p>
<p>Walter shifted his attention back to the weeping boy, pathetic little thing. Walter recalled a time when the child was no more than 15 years old. It must have been sometime 20 years ago. He was a rebellious little one. It was the first time Walter had accompanied Anne to a family gathering, she had invited him for some odd reason. At the time, the boy was belligerent and ornery, something his father, George, complained a great deal about when speaking of his children. Walter understood none of it and cared less of his gripes.</p>
<p>Walking up to the priest, Walter let out a sigh and looked upon the boy with the same exhaustion and pity that Anne had demonstrated upon her arrival. "Your father is a good man," Walter began.</p>
<p>"No, please, Mr. Walter, don't!" Nigel cried, startled and in disbelief at his state.</p>
<p>Walter kneeled down to the boy's height, putting him in mild ease. "He has my condolences."</p>
<p>The pitched scream that followed was immediately met with deafening silence. It was quick and kind, Walter had no patience for drawing out unpleasant tasks. Wrexham officials had already been notified of the evening's occult activities and would provide body disposal services on behalf of the Hellsing Organisation. A letter would be drawn up and provided to the families of the deceased detailing a most unfortunate accident in which their loved ones were tragically caught in and taken by. Hellsing operatives had read many such letters, but it was never in their list of duties to be a recipient.</p>
<p>Then they were alone, as they often were those days. It was much like their days as active operatives, where the butler would abruptly throw the woman aside and scold her for her disobedience and lamentable senses. He wasn't nearly as stern as he used to be, but his expression was still hard and disapproving.</p>
<p>"Here," he said, moving her chin up so she may face him directly. "Have you gone daft?"</p>
<p>Anne shook her head. "No more than ordinary. He was my nephew, Walter."</p>
<p>"And now he's dead. He truly is like a son to you now, I suppose."</p>
<p>He caught her wrist as she attempted to slap him, squeezing it tightly and eliciting a small yelp from her. "You were given orders, and you disobeyed those orders. I'm getting tired of repeating myself, Anne." Anne took a deep breath as Walter now gripped both her wrists in frustration. "We receive orders, we do as we are bid, and we persist until the task is complete. Whatever stands in the way of our duties is to be disposed of without delay, do I make myself clear?"</p>
<p>"Yes," said Anne. "I understand."</p>
<p>"Good." Walter dropped his grip on her and bid her to follow him. "Come now. You face disciplinary action once we return to headquarters. This sort of insubordination is not taken lightly, you ought to know this already."</p>
<p>"I'm grieving, Walter."</p>
<p>He stopped. "And what do you want me to do about that?"</p>
<p>It was admittedly awkward when she put her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, weeping gently for her brother's son. A part of him wanted to tell her to chin up and carry on, their life would include losses and it was nothing more than an inevitable aspect of their profession. The other part compelled him to wrap his arms around her and allow her his shoulder. He then noticed the stain of blood on her back where the child's axe had cut her, and made a note to himself that he would need to tend to that as soon as they returned to the mansion. He couldn't imagine a love that would cause him to mourn someone after that person had attempted to kill him, but he had no brothers or sisters or anything of the sort.</p>
<p>"Let's head back to the mansion, Anne. You're injured," Walter said softly. "Wouldn't want that to get infected, now would we?"</p>
<p>"Does it matter?"</p>
<p>"Of course. You can't perform your work if you let it fester."</p>
<p>Yes, the work. The work must be done. "Alright, let's get on with it."</p>
<p>Without looking back at the corpse of the child, Anne followed Walter. Walter hadn't noticed her wrapping her arm around his and assumed her to be chilly. She was in a terribly sorrowful mood given the death of the boy, Walter was hard pressed to fault her. For 40 years, they fought alongside each other, and now he was finally getting soft.</p>
<p>Blast.</p>
<p>The Vatican had received word of the boy's death not long after. It was determined then that it was a mistake to send such a young operative in so lethal of a mission. But they had wanted to take the vampire Alucard's measure, and to their disappointment it was discovered that the boy was murdered instead by a mere man. So small of a challenge he was, that he was not worth the vampire's effort. In response to the failure, a congregation of archbishops overseeing division 13 would congregate until it was decided they'd have to send their top operative next time Hellsing dared tread upon Catholic soil. It was made clear no other was more suited for the job.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's a ham-fisted ending. I'll likely edit it in the future for better flow. Thank you for reading, I very much appreciate it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>She was already with her family.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He asked her if she had been faring well.</p>
<p>There was no answer.</p>
<p>Upon the conclusion of an impromptu meeting held by Integra Hellsing, he had asked the Hellsing butler to direct him to the head maid with permission from the household master. On their way there, Islands noticed Walter's fickle shifts in composure as he questioned him on Anne's family. It was nothing new from what he had already known. She had two brothers and a sister, all married with their own families and reeling from the loss of her brother's son. The brother in question, George, was a good man. He ran a gift shop in Nottingham, grubby city that it was, and earned an honest enough wage to sustain himself and his wife comfortably. Walter would provide no more information than that.</p>
<p>Sir Islands was a markedly patient man, a quality he ascribed to his years as a government operative, husband to an erratic woman, and father to his numerous children. Given the recent horror struck upon the Hellsing Organisation and the loss of her dear nephew, Islands took it upon himself to verify the condition of the elderly Hellsing maid. There was nothing apparently different from her usual demeanor, and the same sadness that persisted upon the lines of her face were present to equal severity. Conversations between them were brief. As a man of tradition, he had kept his chatter reserved for the head butler, but his traditionalism would not excuse him from his concern.</p>
<p>There was a part of him that wished to press her on Hellsing's efforts to uncover the identity of the manor's attackers. But that was not his purpose that day in the garden where she enjoyed spending her time in grief. For a moment, he admired the shrubbery she tended to, a stark contrast of vibrant colours against the greying features of an elderly woman plagued with loss. He had heard from others that Anne's great delight was her garden and the animals she tended to during her time off from her duties. The woman was on good terms with the Hellsing landscaper, and in turn the landscaper was sure to not disturb her rows of berries and brightly coloured assortment of flowers.</p>
<p>Two of the said animals, stray dogs that had followed Anne back to the manor which she never dared chase away, were not far off from them that day. Before he had left to return to Integra, Islands had noticed Walter scowling ever so slightly at the messy hounds digging holes into the ground and soiling the statuary.</p>
<p>"You don't owe me any answers," Islands continued, dismissing her silence as nothing more than a predictable response to her sorrow. "I only mean you well. If you have nothing to say, I will press you no longer. Good day, Mrs. Douglas."</p>
<p>She stirred then and stopped sifting through the soil. "Over there," she began, pointing at the line of tall bushes from which blueberries were growing. "Every summer, I'd bring Integra here to pick blueberries with her. I did try to stop her from eating them out of the bush, but she was a persistent child and she would not allow me to deny her fancies. Every year nothing happened at all, yet every year I was still afraid she'd fall sick if I did not clean the berries before she ate them. I never stopped being afraid, Sir Islands."</p>
<p>Sir Islands nodded and seated himself on a nearby marble bench. "Yes, I recall Integra as a child. She was headstrong, that one. I did always tell Arthur that he let her roam too freely."</p>
<p>"Oh, heavens, did he try to restrain her. We all tried. One day I didn't, and I followed her wherever she wanted me to go. She wanted to pick berries, so we picked berries. And we did every year, until she stopped wanting to do so and therefore stopped asking me." There was silence between them for a moment, and Anne let out a soft sigh. "I never tried again, and I still follow, Sir Islands. I have always followed. First Arthur, and now Integra."</p>
<p>There was pity in his heart now, and he regarded her with sympathy. "Do you desire to stop? Where would you, Anne Douglas, like to go next?"</p>
<p>Anne paused and allowed her shoulders to slump, despite how appallingly unladylike it was for her shoulders to slump. Facing away from the elder man, her expression changed to one wrought with grief and struggle. In that moment, she chose to continue existing in her memories of Integra as a child, when Arthur was still alive and Alucard locked in his cell. She remembered it all so clearly, Integra's small, round face with full cheeks and large, innocent blue eyes. The child would want affection from her often, having no mother in her life, and in their time alone, Anne would be more than glad to shower the sweet girl with all the maternal love she had reserved in her heart for her own son.</p>
<p>Walter would reprimand her during those times he discovered Anne's unacceptable behaviour, sharply reminding her that Integra was not her daughter nor was it proper to replace her deceased son with the master's child. There was no ridiculous replacement occurring, she'd respond, only a motherless child asking for affection from a childless mother. She would not apologise for obliging, she would not seek forgiveness for pouring love into the obstinate little one.</p>
<p>Moreover, Arthur knew and did nothing to stop Anne. Having lost his wife to childbirth, Arthur instead found relief in the possibility that perhaps Anne's presence would mean Integra would not be left with the same sense of loss he had grown up with after his own mother passed away. Arthur, to Walter's astonishment, instructed Walter to let Anne be and remove himself from the situation.</p>
<p>There was no answer.</p>
<p>Sir Islands accepted her silence as its own answer and once more gazed at the two dogs in the distance, now rolling around and uprooting several plants. The landscaper surely would be stricken with rage, but the hounds were charming at least. "Arthur was a good man, Mrs. Douglas. Surely you remember that as well."</p>
<p>She nodded. "Yes, I do."</p>
<p>"He thought of you in high regard. Arthur did always frustrate me. His carelessness, his debauchery, his absurd certainty in himself and his staff, but he wasn't wrong about the people who served him. He wasn't wrong about much at all, in truth. Another frustrating aspect of the man." Islands chuckled at his own memories of Arthur in their youth. "I can say with all due confidence, Mrs. Douglas, should you have expressed to him your desire to retire and return to your family, he would've granted it without hesitation. You have followed long enough, you deserve to stop and rest wherever you may wish. It is the least you are owed for your years of service."</p>
<p>"Owed? A preposterous notion, I must say. The concept of being owed my freedom would suggest that I was somehow enslaved into this life, but as I'm sure you're aware, this was all my own doing. I chose to be here, Sir Islands. I was a young widow who had lost her baby, and I picked up the hunting rifle my husband had left on the ground. The choice to follow was mine and mine alone. Arthur never possessed my freedom, it has never been his to grant me. My freedom belongs to me and that is forevermore unchallenged by Hellsing or any member of the round table. Stupid, all of it. But here I am, seeing it through."</p>
<p>"Why then? Why see it through? No one would think less of you should you choose to retire from this life in Hellsing and return to your family in Nottingham. From what I understand, your siblings are eager to have you in their lives again, your nieces and nephews want you to go to them, there is a life waiting for you outside of these walls and this garden."</p>
<p>"I don't need it to feel emptier, Sir Islands," Anne snapped at him, turning towards the elder man. It frankly surprised him, but he was grateful to receive an earnest response. "I've given my life to Hellsing! I've murdered vampires and innocent people alike for this organisation! I know it's all meaningless, it all amounted to nothing...I live with that every day. I've accepted it. I don't need it to feel worse. Given all I've done, what I have surrendered through my own stupidity, you think I should go home now to a family that doesn't really need me and sit alone in retirement until a whim possesses a nephew of mine to visit? Absurd. I don't care for any juvenile perception you may have of me, so be it."</p>
<p>Sir Islands sat in silence for a bit, contemplating her response. Yes, he knew her feelings on the matter to be valid, as well as terribly misguided and self-limiting. But he would not lecture a woman in her golden years. It was not his place. "You are most unkind to yourself, Mrs. Douglas," Sir Islands stated flatly. "And a liar."</p>
<p>Anne didn't face him, nor did she react to his accusation. Her expression hardened and she dismissively returned to her task at hand. She would not dignify Sir Island's senility. She would not acknowledge such an insult.</p>
<p>"I see you still wear your marriage ring, I don't doubt you are faithful still to your late husband. Although, I am of the opinion there's no need to be, not that it matters from me. But I will say this: do you truly believe this is where he would have you die? Alone and embittered? Is this how he would want his wife to honor his memory in her prosperity? Were you not the one to tell me, Anne, that you ought to have carried on? Go then, carry on! You have asserted your liberty to do so. No, I suspect you have more reasons to stay here. Love for Integra, I would assume, and the young vampire, Seras Victoria."</p>
<p>"If you have a point, Sir Islands, do tell me lest I grow excessively decrepit here," Anne said.</p>
<p>"None at all. But the butler, Walter C. Dornez, I know you love him as well."</p>
<p>Anne shrugged. "Depends on the day. Today is rather nice, we had tea earlier and he was pleasant. Therefore today, yes, I do. And tomorrow I will perform another assessment."</p>
<p>Islands chuckled and readied himself to stand, propping up his cane and leaning into the bench. "Yes, I understand. Good day to you, Mrs. Douglas." She did not leave to her family, Islands concluded, because she was already with her family. The only family she had ever known for the past 40 years. And for that, he could not fault her. "One more question, if you don't mind."</p>
<p>She shook her head. "I don't. Go on."</p>
<p>"Walter...he spoke kindly of your brother, George. He has even sent his condolences to the family. I wonder, if Walter were to join you in retirement, would you walk away from Hellsing?"</p>
<p>There was no answer.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Hunting Hounds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The work awaits.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had finally been done. With careful and calculated precision, Arthur Hellsing completed the last seal carved into the bonds wrapped tightly around the vampire's wrists. The vampire was wrapped like a cocoon, preparations into its anticipated dormancy overseen by all the living Hellsing line. With, of course, the exception of young Richard Hellsing whom his mother insisted would not be exposed to such macabre and demonic imagery. It was almost a ceremonial affair, a long awaited conclusion to what felt to be a prolonged nightmare struck upon the collective humanity.</p><p>And so the door was closed. The slam echoed throughout the dark, chilly halls of the sub basements and the corridor creaked with the weight of the events that had taken place. In attendance beside those of Hellsing lineage was several loyal subordinates, among them the long faithful Hellsing butler, Walter C. Dornez.</p><p>Walter C. Dornez was a young man in his prime now, 30 years old and considered remarkably deadly beyond imagination. It was determined that the Angel of Death was all the weaponry needed moving forward given Hellsing's mission objectives and the stable establishment of a global peace body. In addition to his duties as a butler, the Hellsing operative was the leading master vampire hunter and was to oversee occult training to new mortal recruits. Hellsing would no longer enlist the service of the damned, and a newfound dedication to queen and Christendom was established.</p><p>Beside the butler stood one of the newest operatives, D. Anne Douglas. She had nothing to contribute to the conversation, and nothing to lament in seeing the old mad king put down like the ill mutt he had become. Therefore nothing was said, and nothing was expressed. Not relief nor worry, only an odd pleasure that the disdainful creature was set aside from her sight for good.</p><p>Walter expressed nothing as well, although one could spot the slightest bit of disappointment. It was deduced that such an emotion, if present, was perhaps due to the years the butler had spent with the vampire in camaraderie. Things would be different now. Walter would be left to his devices, Walter was the only seasoned trashman present in the Hellsing manor. A great burden for anyone, every member of the round table thought so or would if they had such a suspicion.</p><p>The only thing Walter would say is a mere command to the newest member of the organisation. "Miss Douglas, the work awaits," Walter said to Anne, who nodded once in agreement. And the work would stay for the entirety of their lives. The work would never cease, never slow, and never ease. With permission from Arthur Hellsing, they departed first from the cold halls that now kept the shadow of a previous Hellsing Organisation.</p><p>The two operatives did not speak to each other. A decision had been made by the master, and they held no place to pass any judgement on it. Although, it didn't stop the Hellsing butler from experiencing a strange unsettling feeling on his shoulders. It was something of a loss to him, however it could not be called mourning or grief. Perhaps something closer to bitterness or resentment. Yes, that was more right. Frustration, as well, perhaps, yet he couldn't say exactly. It was not his place to say exactly.</p><p>He did as he was bid. He was careless and aggressive with his training. He had no patience to console weeping women or give heart to her whimpers when she was injured on a mission. "Get up," he'd command. "Don't lower your eyes. Keep them steady on your target. It wouldn't take long to kill you, I'm sure you can imagine that given your history."</p><p>The woman hated him. One evening her heel crushed the exposed heart of the young male vampire she had split in half, who had made lewd remarks of her body while simultaneously describing at lengths how her hair reminded him of his mother. She kept her eyes steady on the tattered corpse, and bemusedly thought that surely his mother must be proud. "If it means anything, vampire," she whispered to the loosened eyeballs staring back at her. "I'm satisfied with how eager you seemed to die. Your mummy must be somewhere relieved that her boy has been finally laid to rest."</p><p>"Did it relieve you?" Walter asked suddenly, approaching her slowly. He was bloodied all over, not that any of it was his own blood. "To lay him to rest?"</p><p>Anger swelled within Anne, and she turned to face the butler. She did not answer, and instead kept her eyes steady on him.</p><p>"Of course I mean the undead fellow," Walter continued. He gestured slightly towards the vampire. "It must have been nice for him to recall his mother during his final moments. A comfort to any...dying with a loved one nearby."</p><p>Her eyes were kept steady on him, unblinking and emotionless despite her rage. The taunting he subjected her to was something she had learnt to endure, for the sake of her ambitions and stability. And her eyes were kept steady on him.</p><p>And his own on her. He stood before her, bridging whatever space there had been between them. Gently, he wiped away the blood that had splattered next to her chin and brushed his thumb slightly over her lower lip. "Is that folly in your thoughts, Anne?" Walter questioned softly. "I'm not going to let you kill me."</p><p>"Very good then, I have no desire to kill you," Anne replied.</p><p>Walter chuckled. "Is that so? None?"</p><p>"No, none at all. I need you, Walter C. Dornez. I need your hands on mine, guiding my gun exactly where I'd like the bullet to land. I need you telling me where to tear, slice, and gut all that which frightens me. I need you to remind me exactly why I'm here, and who I am now, lest I relapse into my girlish fantasies. Alucard is gone, my dearest Walter. I am vulnerable to mediocrity, and there is no one else to be my better."</p><p>Well played.</p><p>It was a strange desire that washed over him, both anger and bemusement at her own derision towards him. Perhaps it wouldn't be so terrible without the Nosferatu after all. It appeared the work was cut out for him, for them both. The work would demand, and they would answer. The work, he thought with some gratification, would perhaps not be a bore. How lovely the lethal maid was, and her blade was sharper by the day. It was most satisfactory.</p><p>"Come now," Walter finally said, dropping his arm back to his side. "There's more to be done, Miss Douglas."</p><p>With the demon dog locked in its cage, two hunting hounds took its place.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Jealousy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He was jealous, but there was no point.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a brief moment where a most peculiar jealousy consumed him, and the desire to demand her silence on the matter caught on his throat. However, he suppressed it successfully and listened to her steady breathing instead. The brooding, heavy but steady breaths she took as she sat on the balcony and stared at nothing in particular. Perhaps the sunset, but that was of little importance to her. Nothing was, really.</p><p>Once more, Anne had confided to Walter personal matters he never cared to hear about, but compelled himself to do so out of courtesy. Once more, she whispered to an empty expanse before her how heavy her heart was, and wondered what she could do to ease the weight. Once more, she babbled about her beloved's corpse buried somewhere in Nottingham, somewhere he never cared to remember. Once more, she spoke mindlessly about a life she never had to her comrade of 40 years, who stood behind her listening to the same old stories with tired diligence.</p><p>They had been on holiday in Nottingham to visit her family and attend the wake of her beloved nephew. It wasn't long into the affair that Anne was asked about her marital status, and promptly fled to her girlhood bedroom which now served as a general guest room. Walter followed her, as he often did, and thought to himself what a pity that women seldom escape intrusive questions pertaining to their expected roles as wife and mother. Outdated ideals of a bygone era still followed the elderly such as them, he supposed, and dismissed his musings.</p><p>When the woman was done mumbling to herself, he approached her with kind regard and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Do let me know if this helps," Walter said to Anne, who chuckled. "It all feels rather absurd otherwise."</p><p>"It helps," Anne responded flatly, and leaned back against her chair. She faced Walter then and motioned him to take the seat beside her. "It would also be of great help if you accompanied me properly. Sit, go on."</p><p>He sat. He didn't react when she moved his hand from her shoulder into her own and placed them on the armrest. It was moot to expend any effort protesting or questioning anything the old bird wanted, as such he merely gazed at their aged hands intertwined before looking at the sunset with content indifference.</p><p>"May I ask you something, Anne? It's appallingly inappropriate, I should warn," Walter said.</p><p>Anne shrugged and nodded. "Very well. Ask me."</p><p>"Do you pretend that I'm Ralph? I long suspected it, but I never dared to confirm such an accusation."</p><p>"You dare now?"</p><p>"I don't think it matters anymore. If that was my role, I hope my performance was to your satisfaction."</p><p>Anne laughed and shook her head. "Ralph was broad, blonde and rather stout. You are tall, dark haired, and thin framed. I'm afraid you're a terrible fit for that, Walter."</p><p>"Ah, am I understanding that I was a poor stand in?"</p><p>"Oh Walter, hush about that. You were never a stand in for my husband. If I didn't know any better, I would say you sound jealous."</p><p>Walter let out a soft sigh. "And if I didn't have the good sense to stay quiet, I would confess I may have been after all for quite some time."</p><p>This surprised Anne, who found herself stiff with surprise for a second until she slacked once more against her seat. "You never struck me as the sort. How lovely it is to still be surprised by the things you say, Walter C. Dornez."</p><p>Walter now chuckled. "One more question, if you don't mind."</p><p>"Ask me."</p><p>"Do you regret all our time together?"</p><p>Anne hummed to herself for a moment before giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Yes, I do. I don't blame you at all for the way things are, but frankly I rather be with someone else. Someone who would've given me a proper home and children."</p><p>It stung more than he thought it would, although he predicted she would say as much. He still didn't pull away, nor did he stop her when she leaned against him. There was a part of him that knew he should have felt spurned, a sensible aspect of his thoughts that participated in cordial discussion with his emotions regarding the woman's response. But to acknowledge her response with anything less than dignity was to engage in an act of vulnerability, something the butler would never allow.</p><p>The butler then shooed away his silly feelings of rejection and resentment, deeming them all boyish folly undeserving of an old man's time. It did not matter what regrets she had, or who she would rather be with, he determined, as the ink was dry and she sat besides him. Furthermore, she would continue to be his companion in their prosperity, brooding and bitter as she was, and they would sit on balconies together and gaze at plain sunsets.</p><p>"Hm, a pity," he responded eventually.</p><p>There was something else unsaid that bothered Anne and she grew irked at its presence. "I have always recognised you as you are, Walter, and all that I do is done with that understanding. I will have no more questions."</p><p>"Very good, there are none."</p><p>The woman then placed a hand on his face gingerly, drawing him away from his thoughts. He wouldn't ask why she did such a thing. It was soft and warm, and he did not mind. In her eyes, he saw something of an apology, and responded in kind that he would not be needing one by holding her wrist and pulling away.</p><p>Standing, Anne sighed in resignation. "Retirement sounds nice."</p><p>This confused him, and he regarded her with bewilderment. "We are retired, Anne."</p><p>"Are we? I hadn't noticed. Have we ever visited Hucknall together? It's just north of my family's estate, and rather charming. Let's intend a stop for tomorrow, yes?"</p><p>"I suppose we could," Walter humoured her. "Any reason?"</p><p>"Do I need one? I'm sure I can think of something."</p><p>His amusement quickly faded. "What are you thinking, Anne?" Against his better senses, he felt a twinge of panic.</p><p>"Nothing," Anne replied. "Nothing at all."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Conversation with a Man, Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: I really wanted to lean more into Walter's POV these next two chapters. I removed some older chapters for housekeeping sake and will be posting new chapters carrying over previous themes while preparing for the end of the story. At this point, it's clear Anne wants to leave Hellsing. Thank you everyone for reading, it means a lot to me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was often the young Draculina was found alone. The girl would sit in the courtyard at dusk, wearing a black cloak while pulling her hood carefully over her head to cover her flesh from the last light of the sun but not hinder her vision. Integra was sure to keep an eye on the newborn vampire from her office, and instructed the butler to attend to the girl's needs proactively. Newborn vampires were frail, prone to unprovoked violence, and far too powerful given their state of demonic infancy. Integra would not have the Hellsing Organisation lose control of a vampire in its employment, and while Seras demonstrated remarkable resilience in the face of inhumanity, she was not infallible to her nature.</p><p>The butler, ever obedient, would bow upon receiving his orders and visit the young vampire in the courtyard. He exchanged pleasantries with the girl and inquired about her actions although he already knew of her idealistic intentions. On most evenings, Seras had nothing to say, except to assure him she would not be out much longer. She only cared to see the sunset and sunrise. The dark failed to interest her, and the light still brought her too much pain.</p><p>"Of course, Ms. Victoria," Walter said, bowing slightly. "If there is any way I can be of assistance, please do not hesitate to ask. I am here to serve."</p><p>"Is that all?" Seras said suddenly, surprising the butler. "You're just here to serve me? No, thank you, I don't need anything. I'd like to be alone right now."</p><p>The butler found himself pitying the girl and relaxed his composure for a moment. "As you wish, Ms. Victoria." Walter made no attempt to connect with the fledgling, finding his orders to have been fulfilled. As he walked back to the main entrance of the mansion, he heard a brief shuffle behind him.</p><p>"Walter, wait!" cried Seras, turning to face him. "That was rude of me. I'm sorry."</p><p>Walter shook his head kindly. "No need to apologise. I shall respect your desire for solitude."</p><p>"About that…" Her eyes were sad then and she glanced down towards the ground in shame. "I don't really want to be alone. I...I actually feel too alone, all the time. Would you mind keeping me company?"</p><p>It wasn't the first time Walter had been asked to keep someone company. As a child, Integra would often ask the butler to stay with her until she fell asleep as the girl was frightened by the dark, and her dear butler was an expert in protecting her from it. Arthur Hellsing had asked him something similar many times before, whenever he doubted his decisions or worried about his ability to be a father. Even the younger help would plead for him to stay a while longer, to observe them at their task and ensure it was to the satisfaction of the house's master. There was even a time Alucard had absentmindedly requested the butler to keep him company, claiming boredom, although Walter believed the Nosferatu had been suspicious instead.</p><p>And as he did those times before, he did so again. Walter agreed to keep the fledgling company and returned to Seras' side, the evening now speckled with stars. "Gladly," he responded.</p><p>Seras felt relief wash over her, and the dark wasn't so dreadful at that moment. "I spoke to Anne yesterday," Seras began. "It was very nice. It felt so normal."</p><p>Walter wasn't too sure how to respond to her observation and nodded once. "Anne is excellent at conversation. Far better than I." He felt as though he was lying. The woman complained about itchy cardigans and overpriced fabric softeners more often than he could tolerate.</p><p>Seras giggled. "She has a little grandniece, Charlotte, who recently turned 4 years old. Did you know that?"</p><p>"I did. Gifts are sent to the Harpham children for birthdays and Christmas."</p><p>"Really? Hellsing sponsors that?"</p><p>"Indeed. Arthur believed it made him appear more charitable. It isn't only Anne's family, of course. All Hellsing personnel may submit beneficiaries to receive financial assistance, holiday gifts, and a health food programme." He never thought he'd be talking about Hellsing's benefits package to a vampire employee, but perhaps she should have received this orientation sooner.</p><p>"Oh," Seras said. "That sounds wonderful! It's too bad I don't have anyone to submit." Her face twisted in sadness before she composed herself once more. "What about you, Walter? Do you have a family that receives gifts?"</p><p>Walter was taken aback by the question, although he should've suspected she'd ask. "Regrettably, I don't, Ms. Victoria."</p><p>"So we're both alone."</p><p>"Are we? It doesn't seem so at the moment."</p><p>"But we aren't family."</p><p>"Very good, and we aren't alone either. Many of our staff don't have a family any longer, but they have people who care, people who listen, and as such, it is preposterous to consider them alone."</p><p>"So you do care about people?"</p><p>The conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn for him, and he sorted through his thoughts in hopes of finding a way to politely change the subject. "Yes, I do."</p><p>"Like Integra...I think."</p><p>"I am Sir Integra's butler, Miss Victoria." He would leave it at that.</p><p>Seras thought for a moment and smiled. "Oh, I know. You're in love with Anne, right? You two do look cute together!" she teased girlishly. "In the old people sort of way...you know."</p><p>It reminded Walter why he disdained speaking to the younger maids. Always trying to find romance where they could. He supposed he could consider it charming, but most of the time he was irritated by it. Although Seras was a vampire now, she was still an ordinary girl in her late teens. Ugh. "We are old," Walter confirmed.</p><p>"I've never been in love," Seras mused. "I've been curious about it, but it doesn't seem like I'll get the chance anymore. But that's quite alright, most men I knew were rubbish anyway."</p><p>He chuckled. "I hear that often."</p><p>"Say, Walter...you could've been anywhere else, so why here? Why Hellsing?"</p><p>It wasn't the first time he had been asked that question. Every single member of Hellsing had been asked that question. "My duty is to Hellsing."</p><p>That was all? Seras thought. It was an unsatisfactory response to Seras, but she accepted it. "Anne was telling me the other day she would like to leave Hellsing. I'm worried about that. I want her to be happy, of course, but she's been so kind to me that I'm afraid of her going away."</p><p>Walter would say nothing, and rather continued to listen to the young woman speaking of the old maid. It was obvious that Anne had no pleasure in living in the manor anymore, that she spoke freely about her longing to return to Nottingham and join in the mundane existence of her family. He recalled a visit to Hucknall, a small market town north of Nottingham, where she spoke to him about how peaceful it all felt. She insisted on speaking to an innkeeper and staying an evening there, having dinner with him, and showing him inexpensive flats. He said nothing during the trip except expected pleasantries, and would say nothing of it afterwards.</p><p>"Will you be going as well? If Anne leaves?" Seras asked innocently.</p><p>He didn't want to answer. And to his own shock, he broke from his usual courtesy and did not provide her an answer.</p><p>"I can imagine how hard that would be. I know you're uncomfortable, so I'll stop now. But may I say one more uncomfortable thing?"</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>"You deserve to be happy. I know you're a man, it was nice to speak to you that way. I really thought you were just going to stay a butler all night. You don't need to say anything. I understand."</p><p>She understood. That sounded familiar to him. "I'm pleased to have provided you with company, Miss Victoria. Now, I have other duties to attend to, so I'll need to excuse myself if you don't mind."</p><p>"Certainly. Goodnight, Walter."</p><p>"Goodnight, Miss Victoria. Enjoy your evening." Walter started walking away then but shortly after stopped before he reached the main entrance. "Miss Victoria, there's something else I'd like to say."</p><p>"Oh?" Seras questioned. "What is it?"</p><p>"Thank you."</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Conversation with a Man, Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: This is a continuation. I really wanted to focus on Walter's introspection regarding his feelings, and create a small conflict in him now being presented the choices of a human life, or becoming a monster. No one knows about the latter. At this point in the story, I'm leaning a lot more heavily into Walter and Anne's romance.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The room was unusually quiet when he entered. He did not bother himself to knock, he knew the door to be unlocked. It was a sparsely decorated room, the maid had never put in much effort into adorning her private quarters. There were, however, frames of beloved family members scattered about. Images of her nieces and nephews, and their children hung on the walls or rested on nightstands and dressers. Photos commemorating trophies won, birthday parties, and graduations of children that were not hers.</p>
<p>Across the room, he saw the first picture she had hung. The broad, squat man in the picture almost watched Walter as he moved across the room towards the maid in her nightgown. Beside the blonde haired gentleman was Anne Douglas, 24 years old with the moon on her wings, draped in a flowing white gown and resting her hand on the man's chest. The ring on her finger glistened through the old photograph, and although her smile had faded, her beauty on that day was striking. Two years later, she would become a widow.</p>
<p>Walter couldn't help himself staring at the old photograph, and it occurred to him he didn't feel anything at all. There was a time he was resentful, and he scolded her for her loyalty to a man who had long left her. At 69 years old, he no longer knew why he was so angry at the picture. He wondered if it had been guilt that drove his cruelty towards the widow. He had been the one to cut apart Ralph's ghoulish form. But that made no sense to him, as the man was already dead at that point, and Walter merely laid him to rest.</p>
<p>Walter begrudgingly admitted to himself that the simplest and truest reason for his anger was jealousy. He had thought Anne to be beautiful from the moment he saw her. After she was returned to base and cleaned by attending staff, Walter had such difficulty keeping his eyes away that he considered dispatching her himself. The desire he felt was humiliating to him, mortal degeneracy at its worst. To add to the insult, she spurned him in favour of a tattered ghoul and faded memories.</p>
<p>Walter...hated Ralph. It didn't matter how many years passed that Walter was the one to comfort and hold the widow, that blasted Ralph was never far from her thoughts. It didn't matter how often she would submit to him. Ralph was ever present. Ralph taunted him. A stranger humiliated him, mocked him, and infuriated him.</p>
<p>And then he didn't.</p>
<p>"You're awake," Walter stated, standing beside the woman as she looked out the tall window. "I figured you'd be."</p>
<p>Anne smiled at him. "I noticed you chatting with Seras earlier. How is she?"</p>
<p>"Coping well, it seems. She's made herself rather comfortable here at the manor."</p>
<p>"Good, good. I'm glad. Awful thing to happen to that child. And for her master to be Alucard, my God, how cruel."</p>
<p>Walter chuckled. "She can hold her own around Alucard, I have no concerns."</p>
<p>Anne let out a resigned breath and gently took Walter's hand. "Stay with me tonight, Walter. Would you mind?"</p>
<p>"No, I don't." He didn't.</p>
<p>Without another word, Anne loosened his tie and assisted him in getting more comfortable. She took his shoes and placed them at the corner of the room nearest to the door, and then folded his vest carefully onto her dresser. She would not ask him to remove his shirt if he did not wish to, nor would she ask him to set aside his trousers. She would not ask him to do anything, she merely waited for him to hand her whatever he accepted removing from himself. That evening, Walter would choose to keep his shirt and trousers on, although he unbuttoned the top of the shirt for comfort. He would also choose to lie on top of the sheets. She did not question it.</p>
<p>Resting her head on his shoulder, Anne placed a bare hand on his chest and pressed herself softly against him. "I'm relieved you're here," she muttered.</p>
<p>Relieved. Yes. That's sensible. "Hucknall was nice," he said after some silence. It was the most he had said about their excursion.</p>
<p>Anne looked up at him, suppressing her surprise. "Oh? It is. Let's visit again soon."</p>
<p>"Hm, yes, that'll be fine."</p>
<p>He knew Anne would deny it later, but he felt her smile against him. It was alright. Let the woman be glad about something, he thought. He thought about her plans to leave Hellsing, and when she would be doing so. A part of him wished to urge her to leave soon, go to Nottingham and get out of London.</p>
<p>"Let's look at that flat again. It has everything we'd need, don't you think?"</p>
<p>"Yes, it does." It did.</p>
<p>He relaxed and returned the kiss when he felt her lips on his. He wanted to laugh, he should've known Anne would get emotional about his agreement over a flat. She parted from him, visibly eager. "And let's go to the park, yes? We didn't walk through all of it last time. There was so much to look at."</p>
<p>Walter nodded. "Yes."</p>
<p>Anne laughed softly. "When did you start humouring me so much?"</p>
<p>"Would you like me to stop?"</p>
<p>"No, not at all. I have so many whims, Walter!"</p>
<p>The butler smiled with amusement. "Goodnight, Anne. List your whims out to me in the morning."</p>
<p>"Very well. I'll write them down."</p>
<p>The anger had dissipated from him, although he couldn't recall when it happened. The image of the man in the picture no longer irked him, no longer humiliated or mocked him. There was a time, at some point, where Walter recognised that her memories of Ralph had no bearing on him. Anne was free to love her late husband, Walter would not be the one to castigate her for it. And if she so chooses, she was free to love Walter as well.</p>
<p>Walter also recognised her love for him likely stemmed from her old age and feelings of loneliness that come with it, and could not fault her. She was useless as a vampire hunter now, and increasingly useless as a maid. Seeing an opportunity to repurpose herself as a wife to him, he was unsurprised that she embraced the role and pursued it. Of himself, he felt his body age and his duties as a butler subsequently become more difficult. There was an opportunity for him to be this woman's husband, grow older together and care for one another when no-one else was left to remember them. It tempted him. It warmed him.</p>
<p>He understood.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: At this point in the story, I'm leaning a lot more heavily into Walter and Anne's romance. Admittedly, what keeps me from reworking the chapter is the idea of not loving someone exclusively when talking about loss and healing. I like romances as much as the next person, and I want a romance I write to be about the choice of love. The theme will be leaned into more and more as we reach the end of the story as it is an important aspect of my OC's development in the story.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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